One thing you can always count on if you sew, knit, crochet, whatever. You’re going to have to take things apart. You’ll rip out seams and stitches – rippit rippit rippit.
I learned how to sew when I was in junior high school. Girls were required to take two semesters of “home economics.” One semester was sewing, the other was cooking. I actually retained some of the sewing. Probably because my mom sewed and let me use her machine when I wanted to make something. I remember a pair of bell-bottom pants I made with a crazy paisley border print. Yeah, cutting edge fashion, baby. 1970.
After all the time between then and a few years ago, when I got my own sewing machine, I decided to start making some of my own clothes for work. I’m a little out of practice.
Last summer I cut out a pants pattern for some simple pull-on cotton pants in a gray print and a khaki color. I figured I’d cut them to the largest size given since I was gaining weight at that point. Yesterday, I finally got around to starting to put one pair together.
Then I had to take everything apart again because the pants would be way too big. WAY too big. Oh, yeah. I lost the weight I gained last summer. In a way, I guess I was anticipating having to rip all those seams out. I didn’t do any fancy back-stitching at the ends of the seams to prevent them from loosening.
It’s a pain in the ass, though, because I was to the point of “finishing” the pants with the waistband and hems. And now I’m starting over. Including having to go back to the pattern to trim off some more fabric — in the right places — to make everything fit.
That’s life, too, it seems. So many times I thought I’d set my feet on a path I could follow indefinitely, only to find that I was going the wrong way or for some other reason had to retrace my steps or take an indefinite detour. I’ve had to do that a lot.
Maybe I’m not so out of practice at this sewing stuff as I thought.