Well. Hello there, Tuesday. Hello there, leg partially en-clad in whisper thin Silk Chiffon shot through with gold metallic thread. I thought we’d never meet.
Many tried to keep us from our scheduled match. But this Labor Day weekend, I did little else than labor on you.
There wasn’t much of you to begin with. Just three yards. But those few floaty inches had a sting like a bee. I had to sacrifice some print matching for sure. It took me five hours to adjust my stance against your grainlines, though your metallic crossgrain did help.
Let’s face it, you can throw a punch. Oh yes, you managed to produce a few excellent jabs, the most effective: an uppercut that caught me just below the chin, knocking my neckline for a loop, necessitating the addition of darts in the back. Almost caused me to throw in the towel, especially since I’d gone to the trouble of muslining you in my pre-match research…
A bit of a droop in the front, and a bit of a bow in the upper back, but any fighter leaves the ring with a few bruises. BATTLE SCARS.
In the end I realized, you did not want to be treated as an opponent. You wanted to be treated like a lady, with loving time spent on french seams and careful pressing and plenty of handstitching. I even rolled out my first hand picked zipper for you, though I may change tactics and add a super long row of baby covered buttons down your back. You’ve shown surprising resilience against my seam ripper thus far, why not have another round?
Should we meet again on my ironing board, I will be sure to treat you with respect from the get go, like my fellow lady pugilists Sonja and Lauren did on their silk crepe de chines. I bow to you, sister sewists.