Becoming Someone: Harry the Hedgehog

Some have suggested I give sewing a try...let me explain.

Seventh grade: I was young, I was hopeful, I thought I could do anything.  I enjoyed my first semester Home Ec class, so I foolishly signed up for the elective second level class.  Little did I know that sewing was the main event in level two.

Catalogs were sent around for each student to pick their project of choice.  Since I had never sewn before, I chose the very easiest of the beginning level projects: The Hedgehog.  Other students encouraged me to try something more difficult or to at least pick two basic level projects, but I thought it best to start slow.

The other students seemed to fly through their projects.  Their level of difficulty was so much greater than mine, and they were doing several projects while I continued to work on my one little hedgehog.

I thought I was doing well, but as time continued, I noticed that my little hedgehog didn’t look EXACTLY like the one in the picture.  No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t figure out how to make it look like it was supposed to but did the best I could.

When grading day came, I realized that my time was up, and my hedgehog looked woefully awkward.  My friends laughed, and I had to join them.  The thing was truly hideous.  One girl suggested that I give it to my dog for a chew toy...sad.

I approached the teacher’s desk with the hedgehog behind my back.  I told her that my hedgehog was sensitive, that it was born deformed, and it would hurt its feelings (and mine) if she laughed.  I also said that if it got any less than a C, the little hedgehog would take it personally and never feel comfortable showing itself in public again.  She thought I was kidding.

I slowly brought the hedgehog around for her examination.  As I placed the hedgehog in her hand, a high-pitched squeal came from my teacher’s mouth.  She couldn’t help it.  The little hedgehog was truly hideous, and her laughter ensued.  Out of the goodness of her heart, I received a C on the project.

I had never sewn again until a year ago.  I thought that maybe I had grown out of it, and now that I was all adult-like I would be able to sew.  Incorrect.  With the help of my mother-in-law, I attempted a table runner that only turned out okay because she kept fixing what I had done wrong while my back was turned.

I have thought that maybe I should get a sewing machine and practice, see if I can get better.  But a girl can only try something so many times and fail miserably before she starts to think, “Maybe this just isn’t my thing.”  Thoughts?

The end.

1 comment:

  1. My mom always said, "You either have more time, or more money." Julie, you and I should stick with the money. ;) Oh our domestic fail conversations and my epic failure at PJ pants!


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