Holiday time is work-free time where i come from. I rarely work over the holidays. And holiday for me starts as soon as I am back from Shiloh. The only person I sew for from that point, is me.
Yes, i am aware december is one of the most important seasons in the cloth-making/ cloth-buying/ cloth selling industry.. But, the way I see it, everyone is out enjoying themselves, taking a break from a year of work and I would now use that time to hunch over a sewing machine sewing at break needle speeds to meet unpalatable deadlines… What am I? A DNA mix of the hunched back of Notre Dame and the grouch that hates Christmas?
So, imagine my surprise when six days to Christmas, Someone called me out of the blues that his sisters wanted to sew their Christmas dresses and would i mind? Then handed the phone to his sister before I could tell him where to stick his question.
Yes i mind dammit, I’m on holiday!
And your sisters? Really? This is how i should meet them? What if I make a huge mistake and waste their materials? What if i mistakenly switch their measurements?
We are talking sewing up three dresses in four days …that’s a lot of work and a lot of mistakes waiting to happen.
But, if I am honest, i was more worried that they wouldn’t like me. Not the me I was when i visited, looking as unsuspecting as possible, in my favourite baggy rags and drinking Gari, blending in with the furniture like some ragtag neighbour that just came over to chill with their brother.
It was a good plan while it lasted. And now, all of it was going ka-poot. They would suspect we were dating and hate me because he is the only boy and that’s what Nigerian movies tell us sisters feel about their brother’s girlfriends. And it would be goodbye my lover, and hello it’s me before 2016.
Boy! Did i want to kill him!
I told his sister i would come over the next day.
From the little i gathered when I got there, Someone had bent over backward and even done the wiggle, telling them how great and awesome I was at tailoring and how mediocre and pathetic their tailor was compared to me. Tailor Lauren (from yves saint laurent), that’s what he nicknamed me to them.
I had no words.
Just a deep sinking feeling that this lover of mine was setting me up to fail.
Five dresses later and with bookings for 2 more and even a suit for His mom under wraps, i am happy to report no casualties.
However, i suspect I have failed dismally at hiding our relationship from them; especially with Someone calling me “babe” and hugging me tightly whenever i get there. It doesn’t also help that he disappears for hours on end in the name of seeing me off. But they’ve all been really nice and I have left they’re house with a good many carton of fruit juice. So, i guess someone will live, to try to fuck me up, another day.