I'm not very good at sewing.
When I was a tweenager, my mom signed me up for sewing classes. I learned the basics with a woman named Rhona who ran a sewing class out of the second story of the house she shared with her mother.
I wasn't what one would call a sewing enthusiast back in the day. I think the point of the classes was that you'd go to learn how to do stuff and then go home and practice. I don't think I touched a sewing machine outside of class until I was an adult. If I remember correctly, my favorite part of sewing class was that it meant I didn't have to do chores on Saturday morning.
Once I started adulting, I realized that the only way to get nice curtains at a reasonable price was to buy fabric and sew them yourself. I absconded with my mom's sewing machine after a visit home and started my journey towards becoming a below-average sewer.
I cut my teeth on curtain panels, gradually introducing slightly more advanced techniques like poorly executed french pleats and blind hem stitches. After a while, I got it into my head to try sewing garments.
I enjoy sewing even though at least half of the things I make end up disasters. It's the journey, not the destination, amiright?
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