It’s been one of those days where you’re glad when its done;
The glacial warehouse had opened at one
I had gone for my costume, that still didn’t fit,
And I stood while she pulled, tucked and pinned it a bit.
I’d ordered it months ago, thinking ahead,
No panic, this April, be ready instead…
But last minute mayhem once more has ensued
And if she can’t sort out the sewing…I’m screwed.
The pattern, you see, had ignored that I’m small,
I’m vertically challenged, a bit under-tall…
The bodice, therefore, was not much to my taste
With the neckline descending too close to my waist.
The waistline itself sat quite well…on my hips!
“Hold steady,” she said through the pins in her lips,
“I don’t understand, it is really quite strange.
Can you still move your arms? No? I’ll just rearrange…”
The bodice moved north, which was all well and good,
And it brought up the waist so it sat where it should,
But the measurements, falsified by meagre height,
Now left me bare shouldered, it still wasn’t right.
She tugged and she pinned at the fabric once more,
Till the floor-sweeping velvet did not touch the floor.
With the stuff sticking out all around here and there,
Instead of quite shapely, I now looked quite… square.
And I know I’ve lost weight! I’d been feeling much slimmer,
Yet felt like a turkey all trussed up for dinner.
As I stood bundled up in my satins and laces,
My nerves were on edge, being put through their paces.
With one week to go, well…my courage may falter,
Can she pull it off? Can she tweak, stitch and alter?
Will it all turn out right on the night, or the day?
Should I panic instead… and start trawling ebay?
For comfort and vanity both have their uses,
You get them just right and the creative juices
Can really start flowing and carry the day…
And leave you in peace to get on with the play.