This scenario was a recurrent nightmare for me and became eventually the driving force that made me take up knitting and crochet. The scenario has not come into play but the skill of being able to create something from balls and scraps of yarn has been very uplifting.
I had to learn both skills by myself from reading books as I have sweaty palms and was too embarassed to go through another soggy handicraft experience with another living soul. I was 11 when a new extra-curriculum period was introduced at school - Handicrafts. Our first project was to make a simple cotton handkerchief - cut the cloth to size, baste the edges, mitre the corners and then: the tougher part - embroider a little icon at one corner. My palms are not excessively sweaty most times but run rivers of moisture when I'm nervous - as when meeting new people, when taking the practical exam for piano grades, when confronted with needle, thread and a pristine square of white cloth.
By the end of the first lesson, my cotton handkerchief looks like a dipstick rag. Mortified I showed it to the teacher, who was kind enough to allow me to bring it home to be washed. I brought it home in tears to my mother who quickly cut another piece of cloth and gave me a face towel, showing me how I am to hold the face towel until I feel my hands have dried up, then pick up the needle and sew, drop them and hold the face towel, repeat. She also gave me a goodly supply of face towels to use when one becomes too wet.
In this painful fashion was the second piece of cloth prepared and it wasn't too bad. Then came embroidery day. To this day, the memory of that time still wring beads of moisture across my palms in mute empathy. Hang on then, let me wipe my palms dry first before I can continue typing.
My first embroidery attempt was so disastrous that the wooden embroidery hoop used to stretch the fabric taut was also stained and discolored, the metal catch in danger of rusting. Teacher again gave me leave to bring my bedraggled project home to be washed. Mother took one look and took out the additional cloth she had bought, cut it, helped me sew it all over again and then fixed the embroidery hoop on herself.
By the end of the project, Teacher gave me a B based on the neatness of my stitches although my third piece of cotton was pronounced unfit to be displayed at the end of year Parents Day handicraft exhibition. (She personally made a replacement and put my name on it!) She also excused me from all other projects for the remainder of the year and the next. So I sat out the class watching my classmates progress from handkerchief to cotton petticoat to nightgown and finally to a crochetted shawl. Ooh...that last one I eyed with lust and a fire was born inside me that I will one day make one myself.
I eventually overcame my sweaty palms problem. I still have it now and then but mostly I had it licked. It's all about self-confidence. At the age of 16, I found a new and powerful friend - Jesus. And my life started changing. My self-confidence grew in leaps and bounds. Even as I bounded forward into a different life from the mousy self-effacing one I had led previously, I remembered that desire to have the ability to create something with 1 steel hook and a ball of yarn.
Let us not belabor my first few pieces but I have from the age of 16 until now churned out many beautiful pieces of shawls, doilies, curtains, scarfs, hats, bags, knitted stuffed toys and even sweaters, especially after I taught myself how to knit at the age of 21.
Every piece I start give me such a rush of triumph that I have conquered a terrible "disability" with such success. Every piece I finish give me so much pure pleasure I go around for hours grinning to myself.
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