It’s been wadder city around here (and crazy face making I guess–I blame my lack of sleep and very funny kids). Well, not exactly wadder…more like really beautifully finished complete garments that biff it because my changing body changes faster than I can crank stuff out of my sewing room.
Exhibits A and B: Burda 7198, theoretically a great top for maternity–built in A-line shape with sweet little godets in the side seams. Problem: my cup size grew between my muslin and getting both versions sewn, so I need more width in my upper chest that I usually don’t. The stress point being the placket, split on the stronger cotton chambray in the wash and shredded in the wearing (yay for having an undershirt on that day) on the poly-masquerading-as-silk-and-I’m-so-sad-that-it-did-because-it’s-such-a-pretty-print.
Solution: as dull as it is at times to stick to knit tops during pregnancy, that give inherent in the fabric prevents tragic breakdowns like these plackets that result in wasted time and energy. If you really want a woven maternity top, just buy it; if it’s ultra boring (because you know it will be), buy a white one and dye it.
Exhibit C: The Saggy Bottom Girl and Burdastyle 6-2010-129 (Saints alive! Have I learned nothing about fitting pants?!)
Problem: I only pinched out 1/2″ in the back crotch and didn’t do my usual part 2 alteration to fix the same issue (cut the inseam a size smaller). This coupled with overestimating how big my hips really are (I cut a 40–should have gone for the 38, possibly a 36 with some added room for my hips–Burda maternity sizes are larger), and picking a thin but sturdy denim, I have cones off my back end. Cones, people. I have only 8 more weeks, and I was very conservative in fitting my flat backside because I was afraid that I’d overfit and then not have anything in the last couple weeks. I also couldn’t see too well to really get an idea of what I needed to do because several weeks ago #1 broke my small full-length mirror I use for fitting (he was walking on it–thankfully, on the backside and it was covered with fabric on the wrong side because I used to use it as art in our apartment and took it down when I needed to fit–so no bleeding child, just a broken mirror). He’s been paying me back a quarter at a time (thankfully, it was a $10 purchase–easily the cheapest thing he could have wrecked in my sewing room), and he finally finished yesterday. Bright side: my topstitching is great on these jeans, and I really like the color of this denim, so saggy bottom or not, I’m going to enjoy these.
Solution: Don’t fit pants without the aid of at least 2 mirrors that give you a proper view of your tushy.
It’s really hard for me not to take all of this personally. I’m the type that likes to do everything excellently, and I generally stink at realizing that there are times that my ability to do just that is limited and that that in and of itself is not some sort of moral failing. The thing is I can’t control everything that happens anywhere–I can let it get me down, or I can wear my saggy bottom but smashingly pink topstitched jeans with pride, knowing that someday–soon, likely, I’ll get back to where I want to be. Failure is part of the creative process. Failure is part of the creative process. Blech…I could use less failure.