On Saturday, I went clothes shopping. I’m taking a trip to Portland Oregon next week, so I thought I might want some warm clothes and a jacket. I don’t go clothes shopping very often. Being of a non-standard shape, I find trying on piles and piles of shirts and jean that don’t fit and frankly look silly, to be mildly humiliating. Yes, Yes, I know — very few people are ‘standard’ shape, but my bulges are all in places that I know if I had a teensy – weensiest bit more will power (and less boredom) I could get rid of.
I spend 3 and a half hours in one store and came out with the second thing I’d tried on. Most of the clothing is simple enough that I could make something better fitting in a better/more appropriate color/material with a flexible pattern and some time. It would work if I took that pocket off, or those ridiculous sleeves.
But I go to stores and try on Ill fitting clothes because I know that won’t happen. I’m not good enough to make clothes without a prefabricated pattern and certainly not good enough to make myself look good without a dressmaker’s form. An time…oh, time. Not going to happen, as much as I might dream — a little nip here a tuck here…
Pripyet Naps and Dreams 