Sentences with phrase «something over her shirt»

I don't like that she had to put something over her shirt, why can't she lift up her shirt?

Not exact matches

Twenty - four hours later, Manchester United did something similar, with every one of their players wearing the name of either Zlatan Ibrahimovic or Marcos Rojo on the back of their shirt ahead of their Premier League victory over Burnley.

There is something obscene about leaning over a sidewalk gutter so that the milk spraying out of you in seven strong jets, arcing three feet into the air, will flow onto the street and not your t - shirt.

In case the feeling of wool over your bare skin is something you can't stand, you can always wear a long sleeve T - shirt underneath.

I decided to try something different and layered my vest over a chambray shirt.

Swap your white T - shirt for a black one and throw on something heavy weight and bold over the top.

Here's something I figured out I could do with my version of a shirt dress — wear it over a printed tank dress.

Now that you've heard about my infatuation with plaid shirts, head over to Momtrends and Thirty Something Fashion to see what they're wearing.

So if you don't want to go for the jumper over shirt combo then why not go for something less formal.

I found you after visiting my good pal, Laurie's post on something borrowed, new and blue and I'm still in shock that you're over 50!!!! You look absolutely gorgeous in this outfit and I LOVE that your borrowed item is your son's t - shirt.

They're happy to forgo conventional styling in favor something more off - kilter, and they possess a masterful way to fuse high and low, wearing streetwear with tailoring, maybe throwing an Aries long - sleeved T - shirt over a tulle Molly Goddard dress.

There's something so lovely and chic about simple white shirt over some jeans — I love it!

Regardless whether it's protection for sun - burned shoulders or something that you can just quickly throw over your bikini to head into the next ice cream shop — the oversized shirt is always my number 1.

So funny that your boyfriend «goes crazy» over something like a plaid shirt.

This isn't the first time I've got creative with a shirt, in fact it's been something I've been experimenting with over and over lately, but in many ways that's a testament to the adaptability of shirting.

Whether paired with denim, pants, or over a dress or oversized shirt, a belt can cinch your waist, but also add an extra little something to your look.

«Layering tanks over shirts is something I've gotten more comfortable doing this year, but throwing the tight sleeveless top over the oversized button down definitely made me push past my comfort zone,» Ayres said.

I also have to say that I love wearing a plaid shirt over something or tied around my waist.

If you're wearing something like this outfit, which features a cropped leather jacket over a plaid flannel shirt over a white tee, plus a pair of black cropped pants, you almost can't wear anything but ankle boots.

If you're walking in the mall, slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand as you excitedly pull him over to a store window to get a closer look at something one of you might be interested in — shoes for you, a shirt for him, a guitar or whatever.

Some of the Panamanians remove their shirts and leave them hanging from their back pockets like oil rags, but Torez says something to them in their mother language and he makes them wear the vests over their bare backs.

If you come over to my house, do not complain that he is on the couch, getting hair on your shirt, or isn't doing something that meets your standards.

It went something like this: hotel check - in, locate room, locate wifi service, attempt connection to wifi, wonder why the connection is taking so long, try again, locate phone, call front desk, get told «the internet is broken for a while», decide to hot - spot the mobile phone because some emails really needed to be sent, go «la la la» about the roaming costs, locate iron, wonder why iron temperature dial just spins around and around, swear as iron spews water instead of steam, find reading glasses, curse middle - aged need for reading glasses, realise iron temperature dial is indecipherably in Chinese, decide ironing front of shirt is good enough when wearing jacket, order room service lunch, start shower, realise can't read impossible small toiletry bottle labels, damply retrieve glasses from near iron and successfully avoid shampooing hair with body lotion, change (into slightly damp shirt), retrieve glasses from shower, start teleconference, eat lunch, remember to mute phone, meet colleague in lobby at 1 pm, continue teleconference, get in taxi, endure 75 stop - start minutes to a inconveniently located client, watch unread emails climb over 150, continue to ignore roaming costs, regret tuna panini lunch choice as taxi warmth, stop - start juddering, jet - lag, guilt about unread emails and traffic fumes combine in a very unpleasant way, stumble out of over-warm taxi and almost catch hypothermia while trying to locate a very small client office in a very large anonymous business park, almost hug client with relief when they appear to escort us the last 50 metres, surprisingly have very positive client meeting (i.e. didn't throw up in the meeting), almost catch hypothermia again waiting for taxi which despite having two functioning GPS devices can't locate us on a main road, understand why as within 30 seconds we are almost rendered unconscious by the in - car exhaust fumes, discover that the taxi ride back to the CBD is even slower and more juddering at peak hour (and no, that was not a carbon monoxide induced hallucination), rescheduled the second client from 5 pm to 5.30, to 6 pm and finally 6.30 pm, killed time by drafting this guest blog (possibly carbon monoxide induced), watch unread emails climb higher, exit taxi and inhale relatively fresher air from kamikaze motor scooters, enter office and grumpily work with client until 9 pm, decline client's gracious offer of expensive dinner, noting it is already midnight my time, observe client fail to correctly set office alarm and endure high decibel «warning, warning» sounds that are clearly designed to send security rushing... soon... any second now... develop new form of nausea and headache from piercing, screeching, sounds - like - a-wailing-baby-please-please-make-it-stop-alarm, note the client is relishing the extra (free) time with us and is still talking about work, admire the client's ability to focus under extreme aural pressure, decide the client may be a little too work focussed, realise that I probably am too given I have just finished work at 9 pm... but then remember the 200 unread emails in my inbox and decide I can resolve that incongruency later (in a quieter space), become sure that there are only two possibilities — there are no security staff or they are deaf — while my colleague frantically tries to call someone who knows what to do, conclude after three calls that no - one does, and then finally someone finally does and... it stops.