My elementary school canceled its shop and home economics program with the local high school the year that I would have participated. I blame this decision for my lack of sewing skill. Now, anyone who knows my family personally would contest that claim because my mother is quite skilled in this department. I have always had a great teacher at my disposal, but it seems my interest in sewing was never very prominent.
On Sunday I offered to fix a pair of Ryan’s pants. Thankfully, they’re work pants so functionality is really all that matters. I figured the fix would be easy: slap on some patches, reattach some sections. No problem. Well, apparently it’s not so easy to sew together the fabric equivalent of ground beef. The zipper was almost completely detached and the fabric covering the front looked like pulled pork. The outside tops of the pockets had come unstitched, and each leg had a mangled hole in the front. My mother had recently hemmed a pair of black pants so I folded the remnants into patches. (And yes, I patched the holes from the inside.) I figured that the more stitching there was, the better the patches would hold, so I set the machine to zigzag and just sewed the shit out of those patches for maximum reinforcement. I’m telling you, those former holes are now the sturdiest parts of the pants because if you sew two things together enough, they will eventually become one harmonious piece of fabric. Just be aware that the harmonious piece of fabric may closely resemble the clothing of Frankenstein...
Perhaps someone with more skill could have made the alterations with more finesse, but I’m quite confident that I achieved similar results with my blunt force sewing technique. However, this undertaking was, unfortunately but not surprisingly, not without incident despite my overwhelmingly successful technique. One needle fell victim to my heavy sewing hand, several thread refills were required, and the left pocket got caught in some crossfire and had its bottom corner sewn to the patch. Considering the amount of stitching applied to the patch, I had to sacrifice the corner and close up the new bottom of the pocket. Oops.
My mother, who oversaw the project for the sake of her sewing machine, thought this was simply the most hilarious sewing attempt that she’d ever seen. I must admit that I had more fun than I though I would, but I also did a fabulous job and I absolutely do not understand why my father declined my offer to alter some of his items. So whoever said that sewing isn’t fun (I’m sure at some point someone said that), didn’t ever sew with me. The right attitude and the willingness to accept your own ineptitude is all you need to turn any misadventure into an enjoyable and educational experience, even one as domestic as sewing clothes for your boyfriend.
(Writer's Note: Ryan agreed that I did a fabulous job. Unfortunately, it means he's started a pile of "to be sewn" clothes for me. Ahh the burdens of being so awesome.)
