The freak show folded its tent

Okay, the most embarrassing thing first: I cried. A little bit.
Granted, I just returned from a very emotional week with my parents, so it may have been one of those moments anyway. Along with my mail, there was a package waiting for me, and I knew it could only mean one thing:

Big Girl Knits. Let me say it again: Big Girl Knits.

The book is amazing. Actually, I think I'm in love. Not just with the projects, but with the whole approach to the subject of the female body with the sheer audacity to have a waist of more than 25 inches. There's been a lot of hype about this book, and as far as I'm concerned it's all justified. If you are a big chick, or even in the vicinity of biggish, go and buy the book. Right now. I'll wait.
If you want to know where Jillian Moreno and Amy Singer are coming from, all you have to do is flip to the back of the book and look at the essential reading list. Rita Farrow, Catherine Lippincott, Wendy Shanker? Gimme more of that. And they do. Even if you are not a knitter, this is some of the best fashion advice out there. Because it's as real as the title promises. And because Jillian and Amy treat the big sisters with dignity and respect and a GOOD sense of humour. Could it be that we are really not just freaks who literally don't fit in?
Big Girl Knits is - excuse the psych lingo - absolutely empowering. I can't even tell you how many times I found myself nodding emphatically at sentences like: "... very few sock patterns take into account that your big bits don't stop at the knee." Or laughing at observations like the baffling fact that yarn store salespeople don't fall over themselves to help a big chick when she comes in, because she will spend about twice as much on yarn as a skinny woman. Strange, innit?

I want to make every damn project in the book. Some are stronger favourites than others and I would make changes in some of the patterns - but here's the best thing: they tell you how to make those changes.
It's my sweater (or tank or skirt or wrap), so I should be able to make it so it fits and flatters ME. According to MY taste and specifications.
That reminds me of my one and only attempt at custom-tailored clothes. We have a dressmaker's shop right around the corner. And one day last winter, I screwed up the courage to go in there. Y'know, a strange woman would take my top-secret measurements and all. Never got that far. I explained to the (tiny) dressmaker what I wanted. I'm a socialphobe and being a big girl doesn't help, so I wanted an evening top - deep, square neckline, slight empire waist - that would really fit me so I could just slip it on and feel good about the way I look without giving it any more thought. I was willing to shell out € 110 (about $130) PLUS the price of the fabric if it would help me solve the problem of what to wear on a night out once and for all. Only the dressmaker wouldn't do it. It wasn't that she was all booked up, the woman just refused to make the top I wanted. What she wanted to make for me was a "loose" (read: tent-like) tank with a "loose" (ditto) blouse to wear over it. No matter how many times I told here that I've got that combo in 27,000 variations and that I thought the point of having something tailored was that I could get something I really wanted and couldn't buy at any department store (for a fraction of the price I might add) - it didn't happen. She told me that she was a size 10 and SHE wouldn't wear the top I requested. Was I aware of how FAT I would look in that?
Yeah, it was full frontal freak time. Pretty humiliating. Never tried it again.
Now I think I'll knit myself an evening top from the book I may have mentioned in passing here :o). Strangely enough, deep, square necklines and empire waists are exactly what's recommended for my body shape. Either my idea of what suits me isn't so freakish after all or there are more freaks like me out there. Either way works for me.
Here's something else I found interesting. I'm a person who is very aware of real body shapes (how could I not be?), and I actually like the look of some flesh on the bones. Jennifer Aniston, while a big (tee hee!) favourite with the male population of my life, is not exactly my beauty ideal. However, when I first looked at the models in the book, my reaction was not positive. I thought they looked big. DUH, Kay, they are big. Like you. You know why this happened? Because even the large size section in most knitting or sewing magazines is modeled by skinny women. I know this is not news, but I was amazed at how much that fact had distorted my perception. Apparently, I'm so used to being lied to in the context of fashion photography (yeah, we shot this sweater on a size 8 model, but it'll look just great on your size 20 body. Honest.) that I don't even realize it anymore. At a second glance though the models looked totally gorgeous. And very much in keeping with the premise of the book, because a lovely, well-cut sweater won't make you look skinny, it will make you look GOOD.
Now excuse me, I gotta go swatch for my Trinity Bay Skirt.