Sunday, March 1, 2015

I Sewed Stuff

This weekend, I made a terrible mistake.  I went to a consignment store (not the mistake) and I bought a pair of trousers (also not the mistake). As anyone who ever has to dress for work might know, women's dress pants are a minefield, designed more to bring you to tears and swearing in the dressing room than to make you feel good about your butt.  

Is it any wonder that so many women end up addicted to wrap dresses? I actually tried on a pair of pants that were roomy up around my waist and butt, but the legs were so skinny I had to physically massage my leg meat to get my gams in there.  And my legs are one part of my body I have always like. They are muscular, yes, but not overly large.  

I don't spend untold amounts of time checking out other women's bodies but this one pair of pants I was trying on... Let's just say you'd have to be built like a few pieces of PVC pipe topped by a beach ball to make the look work.  

I am seriously going to try those Betabrand trousers that are made for weightlifting women.  In my last few years of trying on pants, I have have a horrible time with anything that is not wide legged.  Basically, as my bike skill and endurance went up, my ability to fit pants went down.  

That means I could drop kick you over a mountain, but I will have to wear spandex to do it because so few real pants will fit me.  

So I found a magical pair of trousers.  They are a nice warm wool, they have pinstripes, and they had  a cool 3" cuff.  They may have never been worn... And they were made for someone about 6'2".  They just needed to be hemmed.  

On the way home, my cheapskate nature overtook my good sense, and I skipped the tailor and carried them right home. THIS was my mistake.  But I own a very nice sewing machine. I have hemmed a few pairs of pants in the past. How hard could a cuff be?  

Answer: pretty effin' hard.  

Bonus answer: tailors have skillz for a reason.  If you don't have six hours, a sewing mother, and a deep reserve of swear words and a sense of adventure, maybe just pay the tailor the $20. 

The Internet YouTube tutorials were next to nonexistant and mostly written for men's pants. You know what men's pants are not that my pants are? Flared.  It's a very slight flare, but it's still a flare, so that the pants are more snug around my thighs, and loose and swingy at the calves.  This makes them look good on my athelete butt because it balances out those fierce quads.*

This also means that the fabric does not line up perfectly and no matter how carefully I tried, I kept ending up with extra fabric. 

My text message to my mother said, in part, "I am going to set all the sewing machines in the world on fire. And then I'm going to find the evil lady on YouTube who tells lies lies lies."  The series of messages ended with the woe-filled, "you should write to me and make me feel better that I can't hem stupid flare pants on a stupid sewing machine.  Die sewing machine die."  

My mother, in a facetime call, said things about ease and hand sewing.  What she means is that the fabric won't line upon matter what you do, so you kind of shove it and bunch it up and pray to your deity of choice that it doesn't show.  Sewing people call it "easing". I call it, "really, people? You've been CHEATING all this time!?!" 

It really burns my butter that people have started charging for tutorials on YouTube. I got sucked in by a lady with fat fingers who was folding fabric and looking happy and who promised that sewing would save us money, make us happier, and teach us a skill that would make us feel more self-sufficient.  But her video cuts off in the middle of the first turn so you can't figure out what she is doing.  She marks stuff, cuts stuff, and then, boom, the pants are finished while she intones that you must buy her tutorial, to learn the magic of making a damn cuff.  

Did you know that every time someone charges money for an ameatuer quality video with crappy lighting that a baby unicorn drowns** in my tears?  

I'm too too cheap to pay so after I had trimmed my excess fabric, I was up a creek.  

That's when the swearing started. And the crying.  

It took me two hours plus today, but after my mother explained easing/cheating, I was able to hem the pants. It's not a beautiful effort on the inside and no real tailor will be fooled for a second.  But if any tailors are crawling around on the ground looking up my pants cuffs, they deserve to get stepped on. That's creepy behavior.  The pants are perfectly in order for a casual observer who will not be obsessed with my feet.  (And again, if you are that obsessed with my feet, you have more problems than I can help you with.). 

*dont even think about writing to me about toning exercises for those legs. I come from a muscular people and my power quads have hauled me up mountains on my bike.  I have plenty of body issues, but I have earned these quads.  I will not hesitate to dropkick haters to the middle of next week.  I can, you know.  

**no baby unicorns were harmed in the hemming of my pants. I threw them life preservers inflated with all the hot air from the copious amounts of swearing I was doing.  

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