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A Not So Happy Love Story

January 30, 2012
by

Dearest Julie,

I have been trying and trying to get you to pay attention to me, but it hasn’t worked. The fleeting glances I have gotten from you are few and far between. It has been over six months since you last touched me. I lie here, next to you in your bed every night, and you completely ignore me. I don’t know what else to do to get your attention besides post an open letter to you on your blog.

It’s me. The green sweater languishing in the basket? Remember me? Remember that day, back in early 2011, when you found the yarn for me in Stillwater, on clearance? I am made out of such a soft, lovely mix of wool, angora and silk. I am so soft and fuzzy. You brought me home and lovingly displayed me on the table for weeks before you tried me in a pattern. After hauling me to the cabin and working on me through the early spring, you frogged that first sweater because I was “too drapey.”

I wasn’t worried. I knew you still loved me and had grand plans for me. You owned so much less yarn back then and there wasn’t as much to distract you. I was sure you would come back to me quickly. You did too. You found another pattern, this one made just for a soft, drapey yarn like me. A lovely boat necked pullover was what you chose; worked from the top down, in the round. A nice, easy sweater pattern for you to try. I was so happy back in those days. You worked tirelessly on me. I spent many, many happy nights on your lap while you knit away.

There were problems, as there are in every new relationship. Sure, your gauge was slightly off and instead of a wide boat necked collar, the one you ended up with was more of a crew neck. We adapted from that, cast on a few more stitches to widen out the shoulder area and worked some more. So what if you lost track of what decreases you were at for the waist shaping, I am a sweater for goodness sake. Meant to be loose, right? You and me, we were a team. We were going to be a sweater! It was a perfect match!

You finished the body of me over 8 months ago. To your eyes, I looked a little tight, but I hadn’t been blocked yet. My stitches would even out. They had to. Until that fateful moment when you tried me on and had a critical look at me. I know it is painful, but can we please talk about that day?

First off, let’s keep in mind that you have had three children. Three healthy, happy children. And these weren’t just any babies that you had either. They were BIG babies, over nine pounds all of them, heck, the last one was 10 POUNDS! That has an effect on you. There are going to be bumps and bulges after that. It happens to everyone. I am sure even HeidI Klum would have some if she didn’t know a great surgeon. If I were you, I would make friends with those love handles, maybe even name them? Honestly, I think you look great! You have been working out, you are eating healthy, you are doing all that you can.

Secondly, unlike a stiff, 100 % wool, I am a clingy yarn. I am meant to hug your curves. That’s all I was doing, by the way, hugging you. I was certainly not trying to highlight your every imperfection. You took that day all wrong.

I thought we had moved past that ugliness when you started on my right sleeve. I knew you had some misgivings because you were moving slowly on me, but I thought our relationship could mend. Until the basket appeared and I was folded into it and set down by the couch. I saw that you had a skein of wildly colored sock yarn in your hands, but I let it pass. I knew you would come back to me. It wasn’t like I was alone. I had that purple pair of mittens you started in the car last February, just missing one thumb. There were some blue mittens in there too, started for your son’s girlfriend’s mother, who were almost done and then abandoned when they broke up. The basket was moved into your bedroom and there we sat. I could see you every night, working on another project, but I didn’t fret. I honestly believed you still loved me. Through the summer and fall the mittens and I kept each other company. Winter came, and with it, Christmas, and I knew you were working on presents. I could wait. Until . . .

You took those purple mittens out of the basket, and at the urging of your daughter, you finished that last thumb. If that wasn’t hurtful enough, you did the same for the blue mittens, even though they were a reminder of your son’s broken heart. You finished those too, and gave them to your daughter. But not me. You still ignored me.

It’s almost February now. You have knit countless things since you started me, including two sweaters. I still have those size 8 dpns in my sleeve. I know you have left them there and bought a new set when you needed them for a hat, but you can’t fool me. You won’t ever get over how I behaved that day, no matter how much I have tried to convince you that I didn’t mean to be so clingy. I think it is time for us to accept the inevitable. You aren’t going to ever finish me. Why don’t you do us both a favor and unravel me? You can’t look at me without quickly turning away, I can’t stand the feel of these needles sitting uselessly in my sleeve any more. I am sure you could salvage enough of me to use again. At the very least, I could go into the stash again, where I would be among friends. I would be able to share in their hope of some day becoming something more than a skein of yarn. Anything is better than remaining the sweater that shall never be finished.

Please know that I still love you. I will always remember that fateful day, when you held me in your hands and stroked my softness and dreamed. On that day I was so much more than I am now. I was a hope and a dream. If you rip me back, maybe I can be that again.

Sincerely,

The Green Sweater That Shall Never Be

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One Comment leave one →
  1. January 30, 2012 3:47 pm

    *Sniff* I’m heading over to my UFO shelf now. . .

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