I remember the first week we brought our son home from the hospital. All parents have this sudden clutch of despair and terror, the thought that your life is over as you knew it. I was no exception. It's wonderful and terrible, being a mother. You lose yourself, because to survive, you must. Just now that my son is sleeping through the night and able to play on his own for a few minutes at a time, I have begun to regain a bit of individuality.
This project is nowhere near that feeling, but I'm definitely questioning my sanity that I decided to take it on. Maybe it's because my hair feels like a greasy fur hat. Maybe it's because I procrastinated and have nothing but a pair of swants, two wrap dresses, and medieval garb. Or, it's because after a sub-zero winter, my body resembles the white blob of fat you fish out of your Dinty Moore Stew.
Today was a very meh day for clothes. I couldn't figure out what to wear that didn't have me looking like Acid Amish.
I hate this color of red on me. No.
Okay for around the house, but again, too Old Testament. The white chemise is my lovely nightgown until I can whip up other pajamas.
So, this was the final "outfit". Again with the grey top. I used the blue wrap dress as a skirt. Hat and scarf of my own crochet. It's going to get better, but it's going to take some work. And bottles of wine.
I promise to be more exciting soon. Until then, sewing machine pedal to the metal!
