Another story from the House Of Dud

Sometimes whatever I do just turns into a fail. They tend to run in packs, these failures, and it gets pretty demoralizing. "Who the hell am I, what do I think I'm doing writing about sewing when I can't even: blah blah blah.

And then there's the actual item itself. Do I consider making it into something else, and consign it to the UFO tub or do I just recycle it? And is this a scrap pile recycle, or a hard 'send it in the bag to the thrift' expulsion?

No, I didn't forget the seam allowances. I graded up 7 friggin inches for my spacious behind. And no, just no.

Or could I burn it in some ritual sacrifice? Sigh. No. I'd have to pull the nylon zipper out so I wouldn't be making some toxic stuff to accidentally breathe in; because when you burn a failure, you are always downwind. Always.

This is when I turn to mending. Generally, if it's in the mending pile, it's not carrying a heavy weight of expectations. And I am better at mending that most things. 

Edgar Martinez Day is coming up. I bought this back in the days before children, when I weighed as much as a sack of dog food.

I also smoked like a chimney; it was not all good times.

Going to have to open the whole seam out to widen it for my adult frame. That's what I said and that's what I'm calling it now. The sleeve gusset is just not enough.

Making another shirt for the blond one.  This is the same pattern I made the purple plaid jacket from. Apparently I did not write about the plaid shirt jacket, cause I can't find it on here. How can this be? It was EPIC.

He's just taller, not wider, and it's short sleeved. This is an easy peasy make, from some hoarded linen (two years? It was foisted on me at Pacific Fabrics and I could not stop myself from buying it because POLKA DOTS).

He makes the next one.