Alterations

I just spent half an hour altering the sleeves on my husband's bathrobe.

We bought this robe for him during the holiday sales, to replace one he had inherited from me several years ago. The average consumer might not realize that men's bathrobes tend to be vast, one-size-fits-all garments that most decidedly do NOT fit a 38 regular. To be fair, I would guess that the larger end of the spectrum is similarly marginalized. This microfiber robe was the best fit we could find for him without spending more than $50 on a bathrobe. Or picking another one from the women's department. (I would not have hesitated, but they were all pink or red and/or leopard print this past year).

From the time of the purchase, my husband has politely asked if I could alter the voluminous sleeves of this robe. Since he usually asks while he's making my morning latte I know that the sleeves wreak havoc, getting caught on cabinet knobs and sweeping small spoons off the kitchen counter.

It's not as if I am a stranger to alterations. I have sewn countless garments for myself and others, and have lengthened (or shortened) my fair share of hems. But I have dragged my feet for months; it's sort of a "stirring the peanut butter" thing for me. I knew it would be messy because of the fuzzy fibers. I worried that I would make a mistake, and somehow ruin this inexpensive, ill-fitting bathrobe.

He asked again this past Saturday, so today I cleared off the sewing table and sat down to do it. It was messy, that's for sure; I felt like I was doing surgery on a teddy bear. I had to drag out the vacuum cleaner -- for the second time in a week! -- to clean up the fibers. And it isn't perfect. The fabric was so bulky it messed up the tension on the sewing machine, and I could point out the loose stitches if you wanted to see them.

But he won't notice them. He might not even realize that the deed is done until next Saturday, when those sleeves don't get in the way of our coffee.