One Day I Will Rule the World

World Domination, Babies and Middle Eastern Dance

May 18, 2010


Some of you will already know this story. But I was called on my lack of updatery, and this is what you get on short notice.

A few weeks ago I sat down to work on my dress. It had been hanging out for two weeks in a state of “if you will just get around to trimming this seam then you will be able to do some of the fun work of decorating”. But I’ve been suffering from some extreme fatigue lately (yeah, still), so every eligible sewing evening has turned into an evening of moping around on the couch or else retiring to bed early. So on that day, I was determined to get that fire lit again and get moving again on this project (which now has sixweeks to get done. Argh).

The seam to be trimmed was a difficult one, between the bra cup and the silk covering it. So I had to peel back the silk covering to free the seam ends without peeling it so harshly as to stretch the silk or wreck the pleats and then I had to wiggle the scissors in there to trim the seam allowance down so the seam allowance would quit making the bottom of the cup look wrinkled and bulky.

Did I mention the fatigue? As I was trimming, and fighting to keep everything in place, I thought to myself, “holy shit I’m so tired I just want to go lie down.” And then, “I probably shouldn’t be doing such a fussy job when I’m so tired and hungry.” And then, “I’ll just finish this little part and then I’ll be smart and go lie down. I’ll tackle the rest of this when I feel better.” And then, *snip*, WTF?! And then, “Oh, FUCK!”

Because I had snipped a little hole right through the front silk on the cup.

And I dropped the scissors and put my head down in my hands and sat there for a long time. Ian had been cleaning in the kitchen, and he paused. But then he went back to moving around cleaning. And I sat there for a long moment, and a rational internal voice kept trying to reason with me that it was a pretty small hole and I could probably cover it with a sequin and even if I couldn’t, I was certainly capable of re-covering that one bra cup.

But remember the fatigue?

Yeah, fuck reasonableness. I sat there with tears seeping out of my eyes and thinking I had better not cry hard enough to drip on the silk and get it all watermarked. And so I finally stood up, crumpled up the whole dress and threw it in a corner and stomped up to my room, threw myself on the bed and pulled the covers over my head.

Ian came upstairs after me and he said, “is it really bad?” And I took a deep breath and said, “it… it is not too late to call off this whole wedding, right?”

I know, right? Waaaaaaaaah!

Ian was awesome. He just sat down and said, “of course it’s not.” And I said, “yep. Pretty much the only thing we couldn’t get our money back on is the rings.” And he said, “yeah and the rings are cool enough that we could just wear them whether we’re married or not.”

Well. I finally got out of bed and went and put some fray-check on the cut and looked at it long enough to reassure myself that I really could just cover it with a sequin. And then I went back to bed.

And it’s been a couple weeks since then, and I have even been able to do some of that decorating.

I still haven’t covered the hole. There it is, below and to the right of the right-hand flower. However, the more I bedazzle the dress with rhinestones, the less that little rip seems to matter.

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