House In Order, day 20

[cjsmith]

(18 and 19: dishes and Quicken.)

Today I dug out the pile of Ancient Unfinished Sewing Projects and added the two I found in desk drawers. It's a sad-looking pile. I hate thinking about how long these things have sat waiting to be finished... so long that, for many of them, there's no point any more. Patient died awaiting surgery.

There's a theme here, and the theme is: mending. The newest project in this pile (I can tell because it's in the newest desk) is more than two years old (I can tell because it's a pair of hiking pants, and I've been too gimpy to hike for 27 months now, not that I'm counting). The oldest is from college at best.

So I sewed a couple of buttons back onto the hiking pants. I have no idea if they even fit me any more, but at least they can go to Goodwill this way. I pulled out the spaghetti-strap sweater I started to fix four years ago or so, ripped out my attempted fix, and measured for a better fix. (Note to persons purchasing gifts: never get a spaghetti-strap sweater for someone with an actual chest enough chest to require support. She'll need to wear something under it, see. Get both neurons working together and you'll figure it out.) Not sure I'm going to bother doing the fix; I'm four years chestier than I was when I received the thing. I may sew it back the way it was manufactured and give it away.

There are still at least six items left in the pile. Grump. How do normal people stay completely unfazed by something like this? Do they simply lack the gene that tells them when something is their fault? That's the best explanation I have. (It fits a bunch of other behavior I see, anyway.) I think I would deal with a lot of things better if I lacked that gene too.

I am grumpy now. Next lifetime, I want a body that works. (*And* does not require clothing that hurts.)

Edit: Got rid of two shirts from the pile. I am now WAY too chesty for one of them, and the other does not allow me to use my arms. Poof! 30% of the workload gone. Still grumpy though.

Comments

[sebab.livejournal.com]

those of us who don't have "actual chests" might be starting to wish you were using another phrase instead.

(says the person standing in the corner who, as a 34 to 36 A or B, feels like a flat freak most of the time, including when she was 130% of her current weight)

[cjsmith.livejournal.com]

I guess it's no easier on the other side of the spectrum, huh? :-( I mean, right now I'm feeling like I'd trade in a hot second, but of course that's because I've never been on the other side of the fence. Damn I hate carrying these big girls around.

Sorry about that phrasing. I'll try to remember not to say it that way.

[sebab.livejournal.com]

thanks, I know you didn't mean anything by it.

for a weird alternate perspective, it took me years to really assimilate that someone could ever WANT breast reduction surgery. I get it now, though :(

[cjsmith.livejournal.com]

You're welcome, and again, my apologies.

I'm a little similar in that I don't truly understand why anyone would ever WANT augmentation. I hear my mother, for example (36A/B), talk about what it's like for her, and I don't fully get it. But I do get that those feelings are very real.