buttons: a sure sign of my pending doom

I love clothes.  Love them.  Which is a darned shame for three reasons that I will list here.  One reason for the folly will be discussed more fully.

1.  I should be using all of my money to pay off my credit cards.

2.  I am too lazy to create proper outfits.  Most days, it’s jeans and a vaguely interesting shirt, but I can’t manage decent accessories or shoes.

3.  I have a ginormous bosom (in addition to be generally rather plump) and it is quite challenging to find clothes that will properly span my form.

In particular, I have a penchant for vintage-y styled things, best suited for the more willowy types.  To hell, though with what’s best suited!  I will continually try to cram my more pillowy type into clothes that make me swoon.

Anything with buttons down the front is a sure sign of despair, since the best case scenario is that I’ll get an unflattering gap and pull across the chest.

See an example here:

To be fair, I was much, much thinner in this picture than I am now.  Probably about 30 pounds thinner.  But you can STILL see a bit of a gap in the boob area.
And yet.  And yet!  I find myself pining after this dress, even though it $179 and even though I have a feeling it would not even begin to close over my prow, let alone let me imagine that I can get away with wearing it with a few unseemly tugs.
How cute is this?  Little blue polka dots!  Oh, how I want!  And look how cute the real Maggie looks in it.

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