I'm pretty poor right now, so one of the things I've decided to do to try and occupy my time without spending too much is become more crafty. I know how to knit, crochet, embroider, and sew, and I thought maybe that being productive would be better than being an owner of new things. So I got some tote bags and an apron from Sublime Stitching and picked out a pattern and began crafting.
I chose to do the apron first, partly because I hadn't done one before and new is almost always exciting. I decided to do a sort of acid trip stag head because nothing says home cooking like drug-induced game meat. And I successfully ironed the pattern on, which meant that there was no doubling of the image because it slipped or shifted during the transfer. I picked out the right colors (after I sorted out all the embroidery floss that I own, a project and in and of itself.) and did a good job. I finished it was pretty and awesome and ultimately, badass.
see?
It's clean and crisp and intriguing. It could be called a success except for one thing. When I tried it on, it became painfully clear that I should have placed the design a little more carefully. Why?
Because I have Cooter Stag. I'm not entirely sure if it's like, the guardian of my cooter, warning away all who dare try to enter here. Like some sort of symbolic medieval danger label that says "I might look like Suzy Homemaker in my handmade apron but I'm still a feminist so fuck off." Or if it's some sort of colorful deer head emerging from within, like I now live in that fucked 70s movie that no one outside of my family has ever seen called I shit you not "The Elmchanted Forrest," which is a pretty bad acid trip on its own. Either way, I do know that I will A) NEVER be getting rid of this apron. this will be apron that my kids play dress up with. and B) I will be way more calculating the next time I have to embroider anything anywhere near my lady bits.
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