I’m here to tell you
that, as far as domestic abilities go, I’m on the scale somewhere between tap
water and road kill.
The reason for this is
that I was forced to take Home Economics in high school. The cooking
class was filled, so I got stuck in the sewing class, with all the other kids
who had been sewing since birth and were only taking the class, in my opinion,
to show off.
Our first assignment was
to go out and buy both patterns and material for our projects. I decided
that I would show those smug little bitches, and I bought an elaborate pattern
for a dress that was styled after, I think, an Elizabethan coronation gown.
It was just gorgeous, and I had decided that it would be just perfect to wear
to the Prom. With that in mind, I spent most of my college money on a
bolt of rich, sea green silk, not to mention all the brocade and beadwork that
would be attached later.
I showed up for class
the next day all excited about my project. The other girls stared with
open jealousy at my pile of silk, until the teacher, Miss Guano, walked in and
we got started.
“Well, Carson,” she said
with undisguised admiration, “that’s certainly an ambitious project. I’m
sure it will be absolutely lovely when you’ve finished it.”
“Thanks. I’m
planning on wearing it to the Prom.”
“How wonderful!”
Now, understand, I had
never even sat at a sewing machine before in my life, much less actually used
one. Miss Guano had me practice with a couple of remnants until I felt
confident about my ability to sew a straight line. I’m nothing if not a
fast learner, and in ten minutes, I felt ready. But first, I had to pin
the flimsy paper pattern to my silk, then cut out the pieces of my dress.
No problem. I
finished just as the bell rang. The next day, I’d start to sew it
together.
I could hardly sleep
that night for all the visions I had of myself, dressed like Cinderella at the
ball, dancing with my current handsome prince. Well, okay, he had a few
zits…well, more than a few…but he was a nice person and he got all my jokes, so
the pizza face was easier to forgive.
Anyhow, the next day, I
took my appointed seat behind a sewing machine in the Home Ec. Room and began
sewing. I sewed like a fiend every day for a month.
At last, it was done,
and it looked even better than I expected it would.
Then I tried it on.
It was a nightmare come
true.
To start with, the right
sleeve was longer than the left sleeve. However, I found that if I
dropped my left arm two inches and raised my right shoulder about three inches,
the sleeves were perfect.
Unfortunately, that
wasn’t all that was wrong with it.
The left side of the
dress was longer than the right side. It looked as if the left side had
been sewn to fit Geena Davis and the right side tailored for Dr. Ruth.
But I found that if I leaned right about six inches, both sides balanced.
Then there was the
problem with the front and the back. Front too long, back too
short. Leaning backward five inches solved that problem.
That just left the
neckline. It was low cut on one side and straight cut on the other.
Not to worry. If I just pulled down a little on the straight part and
held it there with my elbow, it was just fine.
Ah, I was a positive
vision…with my right shoulder raised five inches higher than my left, listing
to port six inches, while bent backward five inches and clutching the bottom of
my neckline with my elbow.
I was ready for that
Prom, by God!
We swept in on the night
of the dance, and were greeted by a receiving line of faculty chaperones.
While walking onto the dance floor, I overheard two of the teachers say:
“Isn’t it too bad about that poor girl’s deformity?”
“Yes,” said the other, “but doesn’t her dress fit beautifully?”
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