Last night was NOT pretty. It's one thing to knit on with that vague feeling of dread, but it's another when another knitter looks at your knitting and says "yup, you're screwed." And that's what happened last night. There was the holding up of pieces of Elizabeth. There was measuring. There was the tragic realization that the stitches that made the bottom 46" around were eaten up by a center panel of twisted stitches, resulting somehow in the underarm, that place of far too much boobage on my particular bod, measuring only 38" inches around, which basically would have worked upside down but not so much with the boobage. Boobular Elizabeth knitters be warned. This is not a boobular sweater.
There is great sadness. Kristen suggests side panels. I shall have to buy more yarn, and I have already bought more yarn and I am sick of buying more (very expensive) yarn for this sweater and the whole thing just makes me feel overweight and, well, overly boobular, and generally unhappy with my body, my knitting, my judgment and my investment of time and energy over the last six months. I really thought I had this one right, I did. The irony is that I started the sweater in a yarn that was too big for the pattern. It would have come out just right. I still have the 2" of sweater I knitted in it. But I think I might have to undertake primal scream therapy before I actually knit this damn sweater again.
I did think seriously about a weight loss strategy motivated entirely by the desire to wear this sweater. Don't worry, it didn't last long. The 8" difference between the hips and the boobs, which is directly reversed from the actual difference in my hip:boob proportion [for those inclined toward formulae, sweater(hip>boob)<>body(hip<boob)=FUCK], will never work, regardless of what I do at the gym. I think there are going to be side panels, just as soon as I get over myself and crawl into Webs for more yarn. I need someone to hit the discount for me, since I may decide to give up on knitting and all, so there's no point in buying stash. Anyone want to help a poor decrepit pudgy knitter with lousy judgment and expensive yarn?
So last night was fun times chez mama. In between the wailing and the chest pounding and the rending of garments (not handknit ones, though, not yet, I still have hope for side panels), I decided that socks were my only salvation. The knitting goddess laughed at me and made my Opal DK look completely hinky. I mean, it's computer-printed GERMAN sock yarn. How can it look messy knitted up? Ha, laughs the goddess.
So out of the depths of the WIP pile came the Wrixlan Jacket. And I was too lazy to get the book off the shelf so I just kept doing what I'd done so far on the row I was on (row two, what's your point?). Turns out I should have checked because the rope cables on the front panels are twisted in a mirror image of one another, so I needed to unknit and retwist them on the next row. But here's the thing, while I admire the OCD-ness of mirror-twisted cables, why aren't the back rope cables similarly mirrored? This gets me all twitchy and in no way helps my state of mind. You know?
Anyway, I put the damn thing in the Pile Of Knitting I Don't Want To Talk About (growing, at this point, from large to mountainous) and went back to my socks. The goddess apparently wants me to knit socks. I will say that my heels and toes are as nice as they've ever been, these days, what with all the practice. I've even gone back to flap-and-gusset goodness after a long and torrid affair with short rows. It was passionate, but we're just not right for each other, me with my deep heels and all. Really, it's me, not the short rows. I still love short row toes, I do.
I did start thinking maybe lace would be kinder to me right now. I've been meaning to knit the Swallowtail Shawl for months now. It's just that I hear this faint laughing coming from somewhere near the yarn stash...what is that?