I Solemnly Swear

That's what you call a last-minute alteration. That's wanting to wear a newly-thrifted skirt to work, even though it doesn't fit. That is one step above a safety pin. A small step. That, my friends, is my shame.

My refashioning pile is home to many skirts like this one. I see them at the thrift shop, like the fabric, and bring them home despite a bad fit. If they're too big, heck, I can sew! Taking that in a little will be no problem at all! If they're too small, I can sew! That will make a great bag/pillow/you name it.

Um, if I'm such a rockstar with the sewing machine, why are they all still on the pile instead of in my closet?

I hearby pledge to make a dent in my pile by sorting out FIVE of those skirts. In one week's time, I will transform those five unwearable skirts into five useful items, and I will not do it by half measures as evidenced above.

Now, in the absence of a Notary, I will make this an officially binding statement by changing the font and making it italic!