I forced myself to sew something because I wanted to see if I could do it. I bought a sewing machine and found a ratty thrift store dress in the back of Alice's closet and turned it inside out. Then I cut shapes that vaguely looked like the shapes puzzled together inside of that inside-out dress but I cut them a little bigger because the inside-out dress is a size too small. I didn't measure anything or cut things straight. I didn't turn on a brighter light, even though I should have and my eyes hurt. I didn't google how to sew a dress or read a book or ask my mom. I don't know what exactly I was trying to prove to myself. I don't know. I just felt this strong desire to see what happened. If all my messy pieces turned into a thing, or stayed scraps of nothing. Like, you know, how a scrap of fabric is not a thing but a scrap of fabric strung onto a garland with six other scraps of fabric is totally a thing?
So Alice has a dress now. It looks just like the chairs in our kitchen because I made it out of the left over seat-cover fabric. The hem is uneven and crazy. The stitches aren't straight at all, and I did them in the wrong places and I didn't know how to make a closure so I just made a great big V in the back so I could get it over her head. A great big V that I didn't measure or trace, I just free-hand cut out with a pair of dull scissors. There are threads sticking out everywhere. It looks a little like a home-ec project.
I'm kind of on the fence about it.
I think it is a thing.
And now that that is done, I wonder if I'll ever feel like using the sewing machine again?