Spring Fever

Guess what this is?

I'll give you a hint. It is either:
1. A baby sundress in progress.
2. A washcloth gone horribly wrong.
3. The beginning of a cropped, fitted camisole for a 37-year-old mother who has clearly lost her mind to Spring Fever.

I have no excuse. None. There is more than one mirror in my house. I am not laboring under any delusions about the size and/or shape of my body. I do not think that 30-something women dressed like Brittney-wannabes are cute. So why, why, why do I do this every spring? Why do I come up with cute, flirty designs that I would never, ever actually wear, and then proceed to knit them with gleeful abandon?

I love the yarn (Rowan All-Seasons Cotton). I love the stitch pattern (see below--it doesn't have a name). I love the shape (kinda clingy and shaped, with a bit of skin showing, but no actual indecency).



But I know what's going to happen. I will knit the back. I will finish it. I will lovingly wash and block it. I will put it on and step in front of the mirror. And then I will step back, take it off, fold it neatly, and put it in the closet. Because I will never, ever, be caught in public in a knitted, clingy, shaped, skin-showing but not actually indecent camisole. Get real.

I suppose I could always convert it to a baby sundress.