It's been a rough couple of weeks for me, clothing-wise. My old reliable leotard split its seams...actually quite a while ago, and though I tried to repair them, the fact remained that I was simply too big for this leotard. The splits grew and grew until they finally were large enough to put a hand through (but the stitches I made still held, so good for me). Then I retired the soldier that had served me so well and had to look for a new recruit. (I apologize for the military metaphor; I just finished Monstrous Regiment.) I recently ordered a new leotard which arrived today, but upon opening the package, I discovered that it had been made with medium sized pixies in mind rather than actual medium-sized women. Do ballet dancers just....never have boobs? Because I have yet to find a leotard that helps me on that score. Sure, the stereotype is wicked skinny girls, but most of the ballet dancers I've met do not fit that description. This isn't a body image concern, just a practical issue. Leotards don't fit me, but they are my favorite item of dance apparel. Busty Girl Comics should tackle the issue so I'll at least find it funny.
Then, this past week, I discovered that my favorite pants had a rip on the inner thigh that was most unladylike. Since I tend to sit with my legs wide apart, I knew that this issue would have to be remedied, so this morning, I sewed up the rip. Not twenty minutes later, another rip right below where I ha sewed opened up again! I am distressed! I thought the whole point of buying high-quality clothes was that they lasted longer. What gives? (Not my pants, apparently.) It's very disappointing when your nicest pants become your raggedy pants. I want to look neat and tidy, not sloppy, but apparently my clothing has other ideas.
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