Ruffle Intervention: A Theoretical Event

Last post I added at the end that I took the underskirt apart because I wanted it to be longer.  And poofier.  So it went from this:

To this:

(Yes I believe in modesty.  Even on a dress form.  I'm weird, get over it.)

I am still unsatisfied.  Living alone however let's me obsess in peace.  Yet even I realized this was way out of hand when I started using floral wire to make a hoop that balanced out the bottom.  All I need to do is attach the overskirt (which is done) and it will be finished.  Yet I keep tweaking things here and there.

So after another night of little sleep I was messing with the skirt and thinking I may need an intervention.  But I know exactly how it would go.  You know, loved ones lure you somewhere and they have a trained interventionist to facilitate the intervention.  And I would walk in and of course just KNOW that it was an intervention.  I mean Hello!  You walk in and everyone sitting there is holding a piece of paper that starts out, "Dear Sabrina, You know how much I love you, and that is why it is so hard for me to talk about this.  You have a problem.  You are obsessed with ruffles..."

Then everyone goes around the room and reads their letters and the whole time I'm thinking "man I am so glad it's just me and party girl Vicki in the house.  These people are bringing me down."  And I will flat out tell you that if it isn't a tough love interventionist?  Pff.  Peace out!  I have more tulle at home!

Alas I must finish.  Because next I'm making a coat for spring (if it ever actually gets here) and I need Victoria for it.  This is a nice coat.  Hence the more formal moniker of Victoria will be used.  Right now though?  It's back to obsessing about completing phase two paperwork of applying for disability.  I would so much rather focus my attention elsewhere.  Oh wait, I am.