Mella Plays Catch-Up

I know it's been quiet around these parts, because I've had one decidedly looney-making week.* Nothing bad - just zany work stuff. The weekend was devoted to decompression and a mostly-successful attempt at reclaiming sanity.

Anyhow, there's obviously been a lot going on in Wardrobe-Therapy-Land. Though I haven't had much occasion to contribute, I've been following along. A few thoughts:

1. Piling: Can I just say how much I've enjoyed reading everyone's piling analysis posts? Seems like something that ought to be dreadfully dull, but I find the amount of self-knowledge emerging to be utterly fascinating. I actually find myself feeling really excited for and proud of everyone involved - is that too weird to say? I hope not. At any rate, really, really great work so far, everyone who's playing.


2. My Piles: Notwithstanding the above, my piling has been relatively uninteresting. I'll chalk this up to the fact that I did a decent job of divesting myself of most of the "this just doesn't work" stuff when I moved this summer. As I suspected, my most annoying and inexcusably large category is, "Reparable Rabbits." Because I have an aversion to maintenance of all sorts. Deciding to hire out my mending wouldn't help - I actually rather enjoy hemming, and know from experience that I wouldn't procrastinate about visiting the tailor any less than about pulling out the needle and thread. However, since I've quantified the situation I feel somewhat more motivated.

The Current Tally:

• Pants to hem: 3
• Tops to hem (sleeves - to alter either length or finish): 3
• Buttons to replace: 6
• Seams to mend: 5
• Items requiring actual professional tailoring: 2 (both superstar blazers with arm lengths proportioned for lower primates of some sort)
• Once-and-future superstar dresses needing a style update: 2 (this may involve semi-major reconstruction; fortunately, both are summer wear anyhow).
• Fantastic skirts which are the absolute perfect shape and which would be superstars if they were two inches longer but which will be a piece of cake to reproduce in as many different colors and fabrics as I can lay hands on: 1.
• Ideas for additional simple-ish sewing projects that aren't high priority until after Christmas but which will eventually make my life better: 3, so far.
• Laundry to do: Lots. Working on it now.

Guess I need to pull out the sewing kit and hunker down with some old movies.

3. On Sizes: Somewhere this week, Wende suggested that women's clothing sizes seem to be assigned by a random number generator. I concur. A quick run through my closet identified at least one garment in literally every single size from 0 (yes, zero) to 18. For the record, I average an 8 or 10 (US), and have done for a good 15 years. I'm not so big, but I'm not super tiny either, and never have been. If I'm a "0", then a lot of genuinely small people are out of luck. For myself, I find this amusing in a pleasantly-ludicrous-if-it-weren't-so-darn-inconvenient sort of way.


At the same time, the phenomenon upsets me because I know it only makes things worse for a lot of women, including many of my acquaintance, already fighting the number on the tag. Easy enough to say it shouldn't matter, but we all know body image is a complicated enough thing without having it actually quantified.

I'm reticent to participate in self-image conversations. For the most part, I'm mercifully free of those issues, which I know is fortunate and at least somewhat rare. I'm thankful for the fact and can't take credit in any respect - it's something I definitely see as an instance of, "there, but for the grace of God, go I." Because we all know how often a woman's feelings about how she looks might have only the most tenuous connection to how she actually does look, for sundry complex reasons. Even that description of the problem sounds absurdly trite. So that's another reason I might be keeping quiet. I take my neuroses in other flavors.

Enough. Again, keep up the incredibly good work, everyone!



*As distinct from a loonie-making week, which would presumably be seven consecutive days during which one earns only a single Canadian dollar. Being salaried, I know I did a bit better than that.