Until two weeks ago, I was a fabric girl. Not at all your yarny type. No skeins or sticks lying around, no k2p2 bizzo going on around chez clutterpunk, no thank you very much. I was Not A Knitter.
Well, that's changed. And about time.
See that there? That's a SCARF. Made it myself! A ribbed scarf with a keyhole opening in it, no less. And there was even unknitting and reknitting involved, and yet I finished it.
I AM KNITTER, HEAR ME ROAR.
I know it's ridiculous to be so pleased. It was, of course, quite basic. But you see, I'd come over all perfectionist again without even realising. I'd told myself and numerous others that 'I don't knit'. What I thought I meant by this statement was 'I don't care to knit'. What I actually meant was 'I can't knit', which is perfectionist-speak for 'I would really like to knit, but when I pick up a ball of yarn and some needles for the first time I am not instantly, effortlessly brilliant at knitting and therefore I really should just leave it to the experts and stick to what I know, which is nothing much of anything and why am I so crap at everything and blah, blah, blah.... oh look, a cupcake."
So anyway, down with perfectionism and up with knitting!
As it happens, I don't think I could have held off much longer. The yarn-obsessed world was conspiring against me.
A visit to my dear friend Anna, clutterpunk's preferred providore of finely knat washcloths and beanies, who introduced me to Ravelry;
The constant sighting of gorgeous milo vests made or in making, and the fact that I keep returning to oggle at them;
The revelation that my mother, whom I have never accused of doing anything craft-related, is KNITTING a gorgeous garter-stitch jacket for Susannah ('oh yes, I knit' she announced breezily, producing a perfectly-tensioned work in progress as I picked my jaw up off the floor - where have you been these past 35 years, knitting mother?!);
And finally, the sudden remembering that the very first therapeutic act of craft I committed four years ago, after emerging from the PND haze, was the knitting of a beanie for my newborn son. How could I have forgotten that? Knitting was the first step towards the unravelling of perfectionism. It's well and truly time to recommence.