Can a Sewing Machine Actually Eat Me? - Curious Fear of Sewing

March 13, 2013

Can a Sewing Machine Actually Eat Me? - Curious Fear of Sewing

No, it cannot. However, this does not alleviate the trepidation I feel when I look at my sewing machine. Tis the bête noire of the house.

Some may recall, from a series of blog posts I did in 2010, the ridiculous anxiety I was feeling when I decided to buy a sewing machine and start making some stuff after not having touched a sewing machine since the 7th grade. Well, I was doing great for a while, then there was lull in my sewing, then I would pick it up once more, then another hiatus, and because, to quote Dorothy Parker again (because I must), "They sicken of the calm who know the storm," I'm once again trying to palsy walsy up to that machine. I expect any day Poseidon will be forming a search party, and only my bone fragments will be found. In the dining room. Next to my sewing machine's presser foot.

Source: natalie dee http://www.nataliedee.com/archives/2009/jul/

Sure he (in my head, this machine is a he) looks all innocent, like a kid on the playground who wants me to come and play, but is too shy to ask, but I'm not buying it. Looks can be deceiving, because I know this machine is profoundly manipulative, giving me side-eyed glances, waiting for me to sit down, get comfortable and start sewing only so he can hurl caustic remarks in my ear about how my skirt is going to look like a shower curtain gone bad.

Monday, I sat down and stared at the bully for a few minutes. I thought we might make nice if I were to practice threading and winding a bobbin for a few minutes. Oh, my sewing machine could sense my fear, but I'm loath to give the monster any power of me. I'm no crafter, and my taking up sewing again was supposed to be a new "hobby." I think I'll be safer taking up target practice, with me being the target. Is that so wrong? Would that make me totally out of my therapeutically reconstructed mind?

--Amphitrite