Yesterday I had my first sewing lesson. I took it partly because I have nothing to do while waiting for my graduation and mostly because I only have to pay IDR 65.000.00 which is less than USD 8 for sixteen hours a month. So to sum it up, it’s super cheap. I like it. But I don’t like sewing that much.

I had a sewing class back in middle school. I was pretty good but that was because we almost never touched the machine. I sucked at using sewing machines. There were only three machines in the room we used back then and before we actually got to use them we had to finish hand-sewing whatever we had in our hands. And I was always one of the latest girls. Those who paid too much attention to knots and frills. Those who had no time left to wait for the others to be done with electric sewing machines and therefore had to use the manual ones. I always stepped on the pedal too hard or the machine’s oil was already dry that the seam was twisted and the thread knotted.

I thought my first day would be a disaster because I would have to touch a machine. I was wrong. It was much more than a disaster because I had to make patterns. Of course. Because what’s better than sewing than involves a machine is sewing that involves math and measurements. I was always awful at math so that was awfulness squared. I couldn’t even position the ruler to get the right curve and I failed so many times I found it hilarious to see my desperate teacher trying to correct me.

And then just when I thought I want to quit, my super patient and kind (or not so intelligent? ass-kissing?) teacher said I was a great student and she really hoped I could be great at sewing. Awfulness cubed.