Working On My Fitness: No Breaks

Pinned from here . . .  and of course, there's a Pinterest board for that!

Happy holidays and all that.

The holidays are weird.  Do we celebrate them so much as we endure them?  Just me?  Okay.

The thing that I have learned this holiday season is that if I slack off anywhere, it should not be on my gym schedule.  I took a break from working out the week of Thanksgiving because of traveling and weird work schedules and that break stretched into about three weeks-almost without my notice.

There were no physical changes to snap me back to my senses.  Instead, I noticed a steady slump into depression.  Not working out regularly is a little too taxing on my mental and emotional health.

Here's the thing. . . I don't LOVE working out.  I am mortally embarrassed by the people at the gym who like to make love to themselves in the mirrors with their eyes while working out.  I am a little put off by the manic sounding fitness updates of some of my more committed facebook/pinterest/internet friends.  I can't imagine myself ever looking forward to just sweating.  If I ever post a selfie from the gym I have probably been coerced in some way.  Like-it might actually be a proof of life thing because I've been kidnapped.  Seriously-call someone.

But, I have come to realize that I NEED  to work out. 

I need to go out and do things that are really hard for me because focusing on doing those things makes it possible to just be quiet in my mind.  I guess working out is a kind of meditation space for me.

I need to work out because I need to stick to a schedule that is just mine.  Every other part of my day feels like it has been taken up by things I need to do for other people.  I work to make money for myself, sure, but my schedule is still dictated.  My fitness schedule is really the only one that I have complete control over.

This wild impulse to commit some holiday martyrdom over Thanksgiving meant I relinquished my schedule in favor of other things. . .  and it did not go well.  I felt more stressed, more rushed, and more unhappy than I have felt in a while.

So I will be heading back to the gym-along with everyone else this month.  

Simplicity 2497: Sewing It Up

This is quickly becoming a saga. . . here's why.

Once you've made your muslin and checked your fit, your next steps should be selecting your fabric and sewing up the real thing.  This is where I made my potentially fatal error.

I decided I wanted a red dress.

I did not think at all about the composition of that fabric other than that I wanted a woven fabric-not a knit for this first dress.  I picked what I found to be the perfect red in Joann's that also met the qualifications allowing me to use a 60% off coupon.  I got a great deal on four yards.  (No, I didn't actually need four yards but just in case.)  

I pre-washed it and dried it and that's when I realized that my "perfect red" fabric was also a linen.  Or maybe a "linen"-I did get it at Joann's.  Linen is nice and all, but it is a stone BITCH to sew if you aren't that great at sewing in the first place and in any way inattentive.  If you are me, in other words.  It shreds if you look at it funny.  Not quickly or dramatically . . .  the threads just quietly unravel as you cut and sew it. 

Like dark, diabolical magic.

It also grows miraculously . . .  perhaps to compensate for its tendency to slowly disappear as you handle it.  It expands . . . almost overnight.

This should show you what I mean. The only length I added was at the bodice bottom.  This thing is huge on me and it shouldn't be.  I ended up trimming off four inches from the bodice sides.  That's insane.

And look at this sleeve.   What is up with that upper arm weirdness?  

Here it is with a lot of the bodice fullness removed and a last minute sleeve change.  The 3/4 sleeves just looked too weird so I did the short puffed sleeve instead.  

Better, but some things are still off:

• You might wonder why my waistband is so tilted.  Me too!  I have this problem a lot and I think I may need to add a different alteration to my repertoire.  I requested Fit For Real People from the library so hopefully I can find what I need there.  The internet's best advice so far has been . . .  This is in FFRP.   

• Where did all that back fabric come from?  I like the fact that the dress is not getting intimate with my back fat but something about this looks suspicious.  Like I'm trying to hide the fact that I am hiding the partially reanimated spirit of Voldemort on my back . . .  or something.

• Are these pockets low?  This is probably due to my lengthening the bodice.

• The zipper looks damn good from this side.  I tossed both the pattern instructions and the general guidelines for installing an invisible zipper.  I vastly prefer this method.

• This side zipper is also almost entirely unnecessary.  It's inaccessible for me-my T-Rex arms can't zip or unzip it easily while I'm actually wearing the damn thing.  Plus I haven't used it since putting it in.  There is enough room to just pull it off and on over my head.

• The puff sleeves are cute but they are a little snug.  I also made a mistake in the construction order and I have an exposed seam that should have been covered by the lining. 

I am feeling very meh about this dress now. . .  and it's a bit of a bummer because I was seriously pumped before.  

I don't think I will finish this as is.  In fact, I think I will take it apart, make some more alterations, and then put it back together.  I still love the color and at this point it's gotten personal.  I can't let the fucking pattern win.  It thinks it has beaten me!

I did a little more internet research and here's what I think I will do.  

• Raise the waistband back up an inch or so.
• Make a tilted waist adjustment
• Reconstruct the sleeves and add a little more ease.
• Remove the side zipper and put it in a center back seam*.  It will be a lot easier to fit and make changes once I do that.

I'll have to pick the whole damn thing apart and re-cut a few pieces but eh. . .  I can do that while listening to podcasts and thinking about all the stuff I haven't been writing for this blog.  

The plus is that it shouldn't take me long to sew it back up again once I get started.  I know how to do all the annoying bits now.  

*I won't share with you the various contortions that make it possible for my short armed self to pull up my own zippers.  It would be really awkward for us both.

Simplicity 2497

I had some time off a couple of weeks ago and having time on my hands led to several ideas. . . . Some considerably better than others.

Idea 1: I should make something. (Inner Me: I totally should! I love making shit!)

Idea 2: I bet I could thread my own eyebrows. (Inner Me: I totally could! I'll learn how on youtube!  This is a great idea!)

I'll talk about Idea 1 today as I do, indeed, love to make shit.  I'm still trying to come to terms with Idea 2 as I do, indeed, occasionally lie to myself. 

I think I originally cut this pattern out two years ago.  Is letting it languish in my pattern books laziness-or something more sinister?  (I don't really think it's sinister. Probably just lazy.  Had the opportunity to use the word "sinister" in a sentence and didn't want to let it pass.)

Source

 Whatever, it was kind of a nice surprise to find the fussiest part already done when I finally unpacked my pattern books.

I am working on view B because it has sleeves and does not have the neck ruffle.  A basic Google image search suggests that View C seems to be the most popular version by far.  

Google Image Search

It's cute and all, but I'm pretty sure it's not for me.  I don't think I have enough neck for a ruff and this particular neck ruffle makes me think of those dinosaurs with the neck thing. 

 

Google Image Search

I also don't think I have to poise to pull a neck ruffle off.  I have this idea wearing a dress with all that going on around the collar would be a lot like feeling like you walked into a cobweb without being able to find it . . .  like all the time.

I'm uncomfortable just thinking about it..

View B is more my style and might result in a dress I feel comfortable enough in to actually wear.  The fun part, is figuring out how to make this bad boy fit.

Which Way is Up?

I think I have reached the point where making good choices is no longer an option because all of the choices available suck.

I feel pretty squeezed these days.  I am under all kinds of trendy pressure right now.  Unemployment, poor job market, aging and ill parent requiring care, student loans looming . . . .  I'm tempted to leave it at that because it feels so lame to stress or complain about the same issues that everyone is struggling with these days.  I do want to write about it though, particularly because it is so difficult to talk about how I feel. Added to that, feeling silenced--feeling like I don't deserve to speak or that no one will listen--makes the sense of isolation worse.

We have been busy these last few weeks attending orientations, interviews, and looking for apartments.  Yesterday, I was very upset to discover that I actually wasted quite a bit of time and money on those things because my husband thinks it would be better for us to live with his parents for a month or so to save money before we sign a lease.  And by "better" he means "we pretty much have to."  And I know what "a month" means but this "or so" business is ominous to say the least.

I was, am, devastated.  And that word is actually not dramatic enough to really express how I feel.

That said, I do understand that this situation is probably not what anyone involved has been dreaming about/hoping for/longing for.  I get that it pretty much sucks for everyone.  But . . . .

I don't think I can do it.

Aside from just not wanting to, I am not in a place where I have the necessary mental or emotional fortitude.  One thing I have discovered this year is that my physical health depends much more strongly on the general health and well-being of those two factors than anything else I might do.  This puts me in the position of wondering if a month "or so" of discomfort, turmoil, and general unhappiness will set me back for the rest of my life.

Again, I think the words I've chosen are probably not dramatic enough. 

• I feel backed into a corner without viable choices.  These are triggers.

• This move would be isolating, and in this situation, only isolating for me.  This is a trigger.

• I would not have the privacy that I am used to or basic control over my environment.  More triggers.

• I would have no physical outlet or escape.  This is the overwhelming panic button.

Those are broad strokes of how powerless and alone this decision makes me feel.  Just typing and looking at the words is enough to make my chest feel tight, to make my breath short.  

I don't think I can do it--but I don't know what else to do.

Wedding Bell Blues

Source

John Selden said, "Marriage is a desperate thing." 

Truer words.  We haven't even gotten there yet and I'm already feeling the heat.

I always knew marriage would be an endeavor fraught with all kinds of peril for me.  There's this vast disconnect, you see, between my need for personal freedom and the weight of societal expectations.  In the day to day you don't feel the pressure so much.  After all, no one is policing your household or watching you as you negotiate the chores or argue about the dishes.  This wedding thing though. . . it invites it all in.

I was trying to explain this to Wes last night--badly--because I haven't fully comprehended where all my angst is coming from myself.  Ultimately, I decided, the wedding is just one area of life for which I feel ill-prepared.

I am ill-prepared for the display of womanliness and femininity and domesticity that weddings kind of demand.  I am ill-prepared for the pressure to make it beautiful, to be beautiful, to feel beautiful.  I am not and never have been that kind of girl which brings it down to the core of my discontent.

I was not at all prepared for the sheer force of my desire to be that kind of girl.  I am shocked and dismayed and off-balance by how much I just want it.  It's like this wedding is my one chance to binge on white, lacy, frilly things without ridicule or censure and something in me wants to just go for it.

I have no idea where this is coming from.  The wedding I want is less traditional and formal than anything you usually see in Brides or on The Knot.  The wedding blogs I hit up. . .  okay yes, daily . . . are not centered around those kinds of weddings.  They don't exert pressure.  They are sensible and sane and approach alternatives for the budget conscious in positive ways.

And yet . . .  last night, I was looking at our wedding budget and our rest-of-our-life-budget and wondering where I could squeeze an extra three thousand dollars from to pay for wedding photography that costs more than twice our budget for the whole shebang.  I found myself looking at low budget Vera Wang dresses on David's Bridal and wondering if it wouldn't just be worth it to spend the damn money.  I was considering wedding favors-which I personally hate. 

All the plotting gave me a flipping headache.  Then it just made me kind of sad.

How do you hold on to your sanity?

How To Fix a Sloppy Quilt

Wes' son is obsessed with Thomas the Train.  Maybe it's a toddler thing but he kind of has a crack-fiend jones on for him.  My mother is obsessed with the idea of having grandchildren.  My brother is halfway to social security and clearly I'm hopeless so she has just decided to adopt Wes' kid.  Hence . . . THE QUILT.

My mother is one of those hard core quilters.  She sees fabric she likes-she buys it.  And she can sense cartoon characters like a heat seeking missile.  She saw Thomas.  Had to have Thomas.  Had to make her "grandbaby" a quilt.  Which all meant that I had to sew it.  Which I did.  Not at all well.

So here, exactly twelve months after the fact, is my do-over.

Are Christmas Cards like Thank You Notes?

Source

In that it's never too late to send them?

Graduate Hell

I like to say that I am a former graduate student. The reality is that I'm something a little more ephemeral and ridiculous than that.

I am a non-degreed, non-graduated graduate student who is not enrolled as a student and hasn't been for over a year and has satisfied all requirements except the one of turning in copies of her m$#%^&%#@!#$ thesis who just missed the deadline for December graduation this year today.