"i'm feeling guilty about neglecting my blog," i said to my guy last night.
"why?" he asked.
"because i haven't posted in, like, weeks."
"why not?"
"i don't know," i said, "i just haven't really had anything i've wanted to say. really, i just want to spend all my spare time sewing."
"then why don't you talk about how that makes you feel?"
i looked at him for a few beats, then muttered, "hmm."
two of my beloved girlfriends and i have a daily ritual whereby we maintain a sort of living gratitude journal. we email each other every day with five things that we're grateful for. the beauty of the journal, which we started about a year ago, is that we keep in very close contact with minimal effort. additionally, as the worst catholic ever, identifying everyday, 5 things in my life for which i'm grateful, feels like prayer. last week one of the gals replied to my 5 with a short, exasperated note, letting us know that there was no way she was coming up with 5 things for the day (in her defense, sometimes it really is hard to come up with 5 things to be grateful for...) i gently replied that these were precisely the days when it is most important to document the 5...
now i take my own advice. things in my life are humming along smoothly. i've found a craft that i'm in love with. my creative juices are flowing and i want to spend all of my spare time with my gingher dressmaker shears and the rustling of pattern paper. i have drifted so far away from blogging that i've also convinced myself that i don't have anything to say. i don't have any fodder for my blog, i tell myself. and that little voice inside of me murmurs, "now is precisely the time to write about..."
so i'll talk about my recent addiction... sewing.
the pants are finished. yes, they might be garish and devoid of style, but i'll be damned if i didn't do a bang up job with my straight lines and meticulous attention to detail. and even though i hemmed one of the pant legs on the wrong side, i had absolutely no problem ripping out every last seam. i fell a little behind the group while fixing my hem, but i was on a mission!
we're now well into our shirt construction. i got an email from the instructor today letting us know that class was canceled this week due to a scheduling conflict. i admit i was a little crestfallen... more more MORE!!! i devour each new, small lesson and want to take it home and put it into practice. i spent the ENTIRE weekend testing out my newfound skills. i made a very simple, elastic waistband skirt. granted, it's made out of slip material and too sheer to wear, but it looks great!! i created something! i also attempted to replicate this flowy, very feminine silk ralph lauren skirt... didn't work out so well. not only was it WAY too small, but it didn't hang in lovely, loose layers... i later found out why it didn't lay the way i intended it to. and still, i found great satisfaction in the attempt... and the subsequent lesson about "cutting on the bias".
i've found a very zen-like space in sewing. it feels good to work with my hands, to keep them busy and creating. i am learning the art of patience, of following the 'rules', of working through steps in the correct order. i find peace in the routine of exact measureing, of precise cutting, of focused stitching. sewing demands my full attention and i'm deliriously happy to give it. making a garment provides a deeply satisfying sense of instant gratification while also teaching me delayed gratification. careful cutting of a pattern yields to easier pinning which equals more accurate stitching. i love the sense of pride that comes with learning a new craft.
enough for now... i'm cutting into my sewing time:)
i've been totally enthralled with the sewing classes. on monday, i signed up for an additional class on tuesday evenings. we're not quite finished with the babe-a-licious drawstring pants, but i've been having so much fun that i decided to pony up for the shirt making class. much to my delight, this class is substantially smaller - only five of us total. even after the horror of getting measured in front of the whole class, i was so tickled by the idea of tackling shirt construction that i was willing to go through the embarrassment once more - after all, i'd done it once. i knew what to expect. it would be fine! and i would be sewing a real, live, honest to gosh shirt!!
still riding the high from monday night's class, i was anxiously awaiting the delights of tuesday's class. since we were no longer beginners, i expected the instructor to hand out the patterns, measure us, and get right into it. ho no... this time we were going to use a pattern generated from a program and based on multiple measurements INCLUDING WEIGHT AND BRA SIZE!!! kill me now. thank god there were only four other gals in the class... somehow the agony of having to bear the agony of publicly announcing my weight and bra size was lessened by the fewer number of class participants. and once again, i was the absolutely biggest gal in the bunch. i could feel the tightness in my chest start as the instructor measured his first victim... i gotta say, the single measurement of the previous class was small potatoes compared to this round of measuring... the fullest part of our chests, our waist, between the legs from belly button to the top of our ass cracks, neck, and bicep. the first gal handled the measurements like a champ. i could tell she was very uncomfortable - lots of nervous laughter and self deprecating comments. i mean i don't really understand why since she had the whole room silently staring at her, listening to the measurements as the instructor read them aloud. while witnessing this whole horror-measurement scenario play out, i realized that it was likely that every single one of the gals in there was filled with the same dread that was rocking around in me. i made up my mind to just say fuck it and get over the nerves. when it came to my turn, i had a little fun with the instructor... i took the tape measure and pulled it back and forth between my legs while shimmying my pelvis. i think that was the pressure valve everyone was looking for because we all started laughing... and i started blushing... but sure enough, talk of stripper poles sparked light conversation in the room and the tense tone dissipated. i didn't even mind giving my honest to god real weight and bra size. of course, i was as discreet as i could be, but again, i figured fuck it. i'm going to make this godamned shirt and it will fit because i've provided accurate measurements.
before getting measured, i was acutely aware of how hot and bright the shame of my weight burned inside of me. horrible catastrophic fantasies began to take shape and i felt like i would be lost to my peers as me, belly, and known only as a number. i imagined that once they knew my measurements and my weight, i would be forever reduced to numbers, i would forever be known as '51 Inch Hips'. "hey, 51 Inch Hips, could you pass me the pinking shears?" "Please say 'present' when i call your name. Hips, 51 Inches?" yet, this time i refused to be transfixed by the bonfire of my insecurities. fuck it. yes, my hips do measure 51 inches. so fucking what? yay me for being able to provide current, exact weight and bra measurements. yay me for having the courage to playfully poke fun at the tense situation by doing a little stripper dance with the tape measure. after all, if i'm going to continue sewing for myself, i'm going to have to acknowledge the shape of my body!
by the time i got home i was so energized, so full of delight and productivity. i gave myself over to the process of being measured and in return, i received a hella good time. i can't wait for next week's classes.
the real beauty of taking these sewing classes lies not in the fact that i'm learning a craft, but in the fact that i'm learning about me. some of my most vulnerable sensibilities around body image are being challenged. and IT'S OK. i'm discovering that the truth of my weight, the size of my hips, my bust - it's simple fact. these numbers are not charged with emotional anthrax. they simply are. i simply am. i do not crumble when forced to reveal my weight. i choose not to lose myself in the inner whirlpool of anxiety and insecurity. i choose to sew, baby!
"i'm feeling guilty about neglecting my blog," i said to my guy last night.
