I stepped back from the dress form, slumped into a chair, and cried. Not just a few tears — this was the whole-body kind of sobbing that makes your face blotchy and your eyes hurt. I had just finished padding out the dress form to my measurements, adding extra girth in the waist and filling out the cups of a well-fitting bra, using packets of split peas to add some weight to the padding to mimic the weight of breasts. The result was a dress form that was an almost perfect replica of my body — so why did it feel so foreign?
The year before this moment had been a tough one. On top of rheumatoid arthritis, I had been diagnosed with chronic migraines that sometimes included stroke-like symptoms, including slurred speech and weakness on one side of my body. I had developed non-epileptic seizures as well, and experienced PTSD symptoms due to a sexual assault. I was in the midst of a divorce and learning how to parent two children solo while managing several chronic conditions.
When I saw my body shape in front of me, all of the complex feelings I had about my body and its limitations and failures came rushing forward. This was not the body I had in my mind’s eye: it was larger, softer, rounder, and droopier than I imagined. It wasn’t strong. It wasn’t beautiful.
The first Washi, in rayon. Ada is in the Perfect Party Dress from Tie Dyed Diva.
I have amazing friends who, when I messaged them for support, told me to drape the form in beautiful fabric until I was ready to see the beauty of the form. I grabbed some rayon from Cotton and Steel’s From Porto With Love collection that I had been saving and threw it on the form. I walked away and started sewing other things that were on my list: clothing for my children, clothing for clients, bags to sell at a local craft fair.
Eventually I came back to the form with some muslin and started draping and pinching and tucking and pinning. I played with shapes and fabric weights. I figured out what I wanted to highlight and what I wanted to play down. I made a Washi Dress (from Made by Rae) out of that rayon, then made another out of cotton. I’m still futzing with the bust darts to get them right, but that particular dress is a great mix of comfortable, easy to wear, and flattering for my body shape.
As I got to know my dress form, I got to know my own body and how to work with its limitations. I was approved for disability, taking a significant source of stress off the table. My seizures lessened as I started to heal from the trauma I had experienced (in my case, the two are connected). I started having some success treating my migraines. I figured out how much sewing I could do without exhausting myself, how many craft fairs I could commit to without landing in the hospital.
Shortly after my divorce was finalized by the court, I took myself to my favorite bar in my latest me-made dress. I felt great: confident, comfortable, and sexy. The body I had seen as a total failure a few months earlier was now home to the kind of strength that comes from surviving something challenging.
Me in my cotton Washi. Ada, on the left, is in the Magnolia Dress from Stitch Upon a Time. Blake, on the right, is in the Explorer Shorts from Hey There Threads.
When clients come to me for custom clothing, they usually start the appointment at which I take their measurements with an apology. “I’m sorry about my belly/back fat/big butt/droopy breasts.” I tell them about sitting in front of my dress form and crying. About finding the shapes and fabrics that worked for the body I have. About finding confidence in clothing that I loved and had crafted just for me. We talk about shapes and fabrics that will work for their body, and about what they need out of their clothing. I ask who they are, and what they want the world to know about them. We look and touch the fabrics in my studio to see if there’s anything right. If not, we go online to look for just the right thing. In the end, they have an item of clothing they love, and I have the joy of making someone happy.
Allyson Wendt is the founder and head sewist at Warp | Weft (link: https://www.facebook.com/WarpWeftFiberArts/). She lives fiercely with disabilities in Brattleboro, Vermont, with her two children and a cat.
Allyson, your post is so readable, so real, I can feel your pain and your glory. Your friends started you on the right track, and look where you are now! I wish you all the best 🙂
Thank you so much. It’s an ongoing process to be sure – balance is hard. But I’m doing something I love and hopefully spreading the word.
Thank you for sharing a journey to acceptance. You look lovely , and are a role model for your children. The dresses are beautiful.
Thank you so much. My kids are the real role models. I learn so much from them.
What an incredibly moving and beautiful post! You have brought tears to my eyes this morning. Thank you so much for sharing your difficult but triumphant story.
Thank you so much for the kind words.
There’s a line from a Martina McBride song that came to mind as I read this: “Every laugh line on your face made you who you are today” and I think that’s very true of every part of our bodies. We can point to any scar, any lump or wrinkle or smooth spot, any part that’s droopy or taut, any part that was there before and isn’t now, any part that was bigger and got smaller or that was smaller and got bigger, a part that got stronger or that got weaker, and parts that have never changed since we were little….and there’s a memory there, or a story behind it, or something to mourn, or something to celebrate. Our parts don’t just make up our physical shape, they make up our spiritual shape, too. Your post made me happy-sad-happy-again about my own body. Thank you!
YES! Our bodies are our histories, and deserve to be treated with the respect and care with which we treat all precious things.
I am so sorry for all you have endured. While I do not have a dress from presently, I can imagine doing exactly what you did, if I did. I used to be 5’6” and am now 5’1-1/2” tall and feel all the lost height has been added to my middle. I have not bought anything new in 18 years because I do not like how I look. I refuse to sew until I am happier with my size but the scale seems not to be moving. I blame a lot of the change on my orthopedic state, but much on being thrown away by a then husband of 28 years when I was approved for disability. He has since turned our children away from me. I think you look lovely overall and look very nice in your new dresses, both versions. I wish I looked as nice. Please look in the faces of your children for all the validation you need. My prayers are with you for your continued strength. Nancy
I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through. I encourage you to sew for the body you have! It can be amazing to have a garment that makes you feel beautiful. It feels backwards, doesn’t it, to sew for a body you can’t imagine being beautiful? But somehow sewing for the body you’re in makes it feel totally different.
Oh Nancy (((HUG))) I have MS and my husband shames me every day too for being “disabled”. He knows I can’t care for myself and so I am stuck. I am 61. My children are supportive when young but then leave home and have no time for me. You are not alone. And I think you are amazing and beautiful. I don’t need to “see” you, I read your heart in your comment.
What an amazing therapy and service you have crafted for yourself and others. I am in awe. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for the kind words. 🙂
A beautifully written and honest piece full of strength, endurance and wisdom!
Thank you so much. I don’t know about wisdom, but endurance and downright stubbornness are a given.
I got my dress form when I was 59. I padded it and fitted it to me. The first thing I did was hug it and cry because I thought my body form felt beautiful and I wondered why people were repulsed by it. I’m 61 now and I still adjust the padding on my dress form as my shape shifts, and I still hug “me”(body form). We must be kind to ourselves. The world has shamed us long enough.
Thank You for sharing your story. (((HUG)))
I love this! My kids named mine Alice, and talk about her like she’s me. 🙂
How cute! My youngest at home without special needs are 14, (I had him at 47) plus my 2 teen granddaughters (adopted) and a daughter 17 (adopted), those 4 are my sewing critics at home. :o) I named my dress form “Newmie” as in New Me!! They think I’m just silly! LOL!!
I’m just starting to get eye-rolling from the 8 year old, but he still loves wearing mama-made. 🙂
What a beautiful story that reminds us that what we are really doing when we sew and fit our me-makes, we are developing a very deep intimate relationship with ourselves. ❤️
Genevieve
Indeed. It’s “just clothing,” but it goes so much deeper than that, doesn’t it?
You Went through a lot at one time but came up Victorious ! Love your post , you are beautiful , your daughters also , and the dresses are just Awesome . You apparently came out a stronger person so keep making those positive decisions.
Thank you so much.
This post brought a tear to my eye, but also gladdened my heart! It was fabulous to read and I really wanted to meet this strong and fearless woman, who, by overcoming and embracing her own perceived shortcomings (I couldn’t see any), is able to help a whole raft of women embrace their own. Bravo I say!
Bravo back at you! And I can only hope that my words help other women find their joy.
You certainly chose your pattern and fabric well. I took one look at the photos, and thought “What is she talking about?” I didn’t notice any figure flaws. A closer look did hint at a bit of belly, but really nothing detracting at all. Which leads me to wonder whether I should try again with my dress form, which has been banished to the basement because it too accurately portrays my own bumpy, lumpy, droopy shape. Yes, I understand the tears – facing reality is hard; accepting it feels like failure. Thanks for your words of encouragement.
It’s really all about fabric and pattern! Empire waists hide my very lumpy, bumpy belly. 🙂
Thanks for sharing. Having never tried to get a dressform to look like me, it never occurred to me how seeing yourself could make you feel – but I imagine it would be a bit like looking in a mirror and suddenly seeing flaws or beauty (depending on what way you look at it). Happy that you are now looking at the positive side and encourage clients to do the same. We all need to remember that clothes should fit bodies, not the other way round 🙂
Yes, exactly!
Thank you for sharing your pain and the triumph through your sewing and creativity. I have Lupus to include brain vasculitis which like you gives me psychogenic siezures, ischemic transient attacks, slurred speech and tremors. I to have found medicine (chemo) that works for me. I also have a very small business. We all have our challenges and when woman like you open up and share their heartache as well as their struggles it unites us all and gives us strength. I am so proud of you for persevering and finding your new self and accepting her and loving her. You are a warrior.
I’m feeling a wave of empathy – this stuff SUCKS. We are all fierce, us chronically ill folk, in our own ways.
What a beautiful story you have written. I cried when I read it. I too spent a long time padding my dress form and thinking I had made a reasonable copy of myself only to discover that the bust is too high etc etc etc. I discovered it was not me shaped when the clothing I put on it didn’t look like it looked on me… I didn’t get my lumps and bumps in the right places – like I said the form’s boobs are perkier than mine etc. I need to take off all the padding and start again. But the thought of redoing and starting over tires me out so I just leave it sit. I try to love my body and stories like yours reaffirm that having a baby wreaks havoc with your abdominal muscles and they will just never be what they were before but I am still beautiful. And your dresses look amazing on you. I also could see no figure flaws at all. You are right that the cut of a dress or skirt or top is so important in making us feel good in what we wear. I know we are just supposed to be happy with how and who we are but I also think its hard to do especially when we know what we used to look like and going through horribly hard things at the same time. Being able to make things that make us feel beautiful is truly a gift and it is wondrous that you are willing to share that gift with others to make them feel beautiful again too. I too have an awful divorce in my past. I am truly grateful that my husband left me for another woman but it has taken almost 15 years to get to the point of being happy for it. LOL. Slowly I am learning to love the body I have now after child birth and such a busy schedule that I wonder what exercise is anymore. I used to walk 5 miles a day but hard to fit that in with a young child and so… Well you know how it goes. Your story is inspiring and it is so wonderful that you are helping other women learn to love themselves. Thank you for your courage in writing this and in making the world a better place on dress at a time. XXX
I wish you joy on your journey. A local woman has a business (Stasia’s Style School, if you want to google it) that’s devoted to helping women show up fully for themselves, and how clothing and accessories can help them do that. She does these amazing online seminars that help women figure out who they are and how to show that to the world. Her thinking has greatly influenced mine..
you got me with the split peas. a great read
[…] emotional stories in the past — see this one from Emma on not being able to be a mother, or Allyson‘s experience of sewing her way to healing, just to name a couple. Other stories are more […]
[…] recently, Allyson’s post made me stop in my tracks. It opened up my mind. I, too, have fitted commissioned clothing, and […]
Oh Allyson! I feel your pain, and your strength. Such a lovely way to express your journey. I too suffer from PTSD, along with anxiety and depression (directly related to a prior husband of 14 years). So, without outright saying it, I get it. I’ve read between the lines. And I am so sorry. Sorry for your pain, both emotional and physical. Sorry for your children, as they’ve experienced their own form of trauma. But I am so excited for your future! You can and will be/do whatever you want! Your children will thrive in a world of positivity, safety and joy. Sure there will be bumps in the road, but hitting bumps means you’re further down that road! I started my own makeup business after my divorce. Eleven years later, and still in business!
I could have NEVER done that before. He would not have allowed it, and my destroyed confidence would have prevented me from even trying. Thankfully, God sent me a man that is so supporting, loving, caring, kind and protective. We just celebrated 17 years of marriage!
Friend me on facebook if you want. Happy to chat with you any time 🙂 https://www.facebook.com/lorraine.A.pierce