virus

This Swedish photographer has been able to document how the bird flu virus kills a living cell. It's freaky how something as deadly and disgusting can be so beautiful.

big Birch

It looks like this tree is about to hit the sky.
I knit instead of writing these days. I'll be back when the Birch has been out on the town showing itself off.

the new me

Do you notice anything different?


After popular demand: More photos.
Did you know it's difficult to take pictures of the back of your own head? Well it is. So here's a semi profile and a weird one trying to show you: It's Short in the back. And then cut at an angle to frame the face... And two tones. And I've tried like... umptuous styles. It's a fun cut to play with!

growing birch

Yes, I am proud so far.

And I'm planning what jacket I should look for/ make (What? I can't sew!) to match this beauty, and what color other shawl I could combine it with. Black jacket with burgundy details (I made sketches!) and mix shawl with a steel gray mohair or alpaca shawl (still to be made) - and THEN I would be the best looking girl in the world...

Yes, didn't I tell you? I'm nuts.

day 3

...and it's time to get going. No problem though since I love this shawl already! The stitch where you pull the "tip of the leaves" is by far the most rewarding stitch to do in this pattern. It really shows the design off. I giggle and squeak every time.

On other notes, out dryer is broken in the laundry room. My doing the laundry became much more of a project yesterday once I had discovered that. But still, going to sleep just after a shower in cuper clean sheets is still a favorite feeling of mine, so it was all worth it.

...and we're off

The Knitting Olympics have begun, and after a late night and a sunny morning I have completed the first nine rows of my Birch shawl. This is such a FUN pattern! I love the build of it. You understand it real quick, and you get fast results in stunning beauty.

And I also have to brag a little about being the blog administrator of the Team Sweden BLOG!

Best wishes for the games to all the Olympic knitters!

cuppajo

So... Officially Nuts. That's me. So, my Java turned into a bowl-holder, so the frustration over that just made me this in the last two hours:

I was supposed to work, but having my own firm I can work later... My head was working with work stuff, but the hands made a cup. Yes. A knitted cup. I made it up, and take away lattes will totally fit it. It's totally cute don't you think?

single crochet bind off

Why didn't I learn this before today?
I don't think I'll ever use anything else now...

Happy happy joy joy...

What did I bind off? The cuppajoe-holder from magknits. But I'm a loose knitter - I should know that by now - so it's more of a bowlajoe-holder. I'll just make it again, but cast on less. It only took me two bus rides plus half an hour so...

current events

I added a new feature in my sidebar: Current events.
It seemed to fit now with the Olympics and all, but after the Olympics this will be a place for the odd comment about what I'm doing at work, or the occasional picture of knitting projects in progress... Or so I've planned.

Oh, and one more thing: I made that Team Sweden button...

work of art

I'm a work of art. Or well, I'm part of a work of art. The Swedish artist Linda Tedsdotter has made a light and sound installation that is to be exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art in Stockholm. She's made these simple boxes that you stick your head into. In the boxes you meet a lamp. Not a blinding lamp, but light therapy. Light. We Scandinavians need more light for sure. And another need we have is more love. I think everybody needs more love. These boxes provide that too - in headphones. There's a different voice in every box bombarding you with compliments, admiration - love. I'm one of the voices.

I was asked to talk lovingly - in English - to strangers that stick their heads into light boxes at a museum (The other boxes speak Swedish). But that's not what you must think of when you're stuck in the soundproof box in the recording studio with a microphone. For the twenty minutes I talked into that microphone, it was the images of loved ones I saw before me. Current love. Old love. Family. Friends. People around me I simply admire. Beauty within my loved ones. Beauty I miss. Beauty I see every time I close my eyes. And I described how I see that beauty to the microphone. But without the most specific specifics. I told it about magic eyes and contagious smiles. I told it of sense of style and my own warm and fuzzy feelings.

I think those twenty minutes loving a microphone was as much love therapy to me as it ever will be to all those strangers coming to be loved by me when they stick their head into a box.

This exhibition starts at Feb 18 at Moderna Museet

your wish...

...is my command. For Mandy and Julie especially since they asked for it: More pictures of my à-Tempting sweater (and me), taken in daylight:


That's our beautiful capital Stockholm in the background of that last photo...

introducing

Sture!

This is the most impatient knitting project ever. Being a gift for my friend J, he didn't have to be completed for another week or so, but being very eager to present himself to the world, he made me finish and blog him even before I've had the chance to give him away! I'm sorry J. He forced me to reveal him by blackmail! (He said I couldn't knit that other thingie I wanted until he had both legs attached. See? Two legs.)

He's based on the Kate pattern from Knitty and I don't think I've ever been, nor will ever be so precise when following a pattern. All I did was change the colors... Oh, wait! Sture, why are you leaving?

Oh, you're right! I changed the sex too. See, Sture is not a girl as Kate is. He's a boy. Definately. J named him even before he was born. There Sture. Are you happy now that I told everyone how masculine you are then? Good. There you have him everybody. Sture.

mapped

I'm not crazy about "hey-come-join-this-online-thing"-thingies, but this is fun! So dear readers/ friends/ knitters/ other people luriking around my blog - Tell me where you are by joining my frappr-map!

list four

I'm a sucker for these list thingies, and while I build up the nerve and the phrasing to write about what's going on inside my head (and damn I should write in English about my adventure in Canada. But "should" is such an ugly word to use in my blog though...) what could be better than another mindless list of things. Thanks Amy for the open invitation to anyone to feel tagged by the list of four things. Here's my version:

Four Jobs I’ve Had
1. museum guide (twice in different museums)
2. I worked in a store (Granit)
3. tutor
4. architect (-ure teacher...)

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over
1. Amelie
2. Love, Actually
3. Big Fish
4. all my Eddie Izzard DVDs

Four Places I’ve Lived
1. Stockholm
2. Härnösand
3. Göteborg
4. a 17 week summer in France

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch
1. Gilmore Girls
2. Numb3rs
3. Coupling
4. ok I admit then... Battlestar Galactica (I'm hooked)

Four Places I’ve Been on Vacation
1. France
2. Japan
3. Rome & Florence
4. Canada
(consider these important trips, because I'd like to list more places. Glasgow is up there with the best of them. As is Greece. And Barcelona. And...)

Four Blogs You Visit Daily
1. Mandy
2. Rachael
3. Amy
4. Lina
(Depending on blogline's list of recent updates obviously. There are many places.)

Four of Your Favorite Foods
1. I simply
2. hate
3. this
4. question
(I like so much and the selection is so wide. I'd rather list my favorite people to have dinner with than what's on the table. But that's not on the list, so I won't.)

Four Places You’d Rather Be
1. Calgary
2. Rome
3. Florence
4. Paris

Four Albums You Can’t Live Without
1. Teitur - poetry and aeroplanes
2. Antony & the Johnsons - I am a bird now
3. Rufus Wainwright - want one
4. Krom - krom

Four Vehicles I’ve Owned
1. 1977 Saab v4 96 (How I loved that car)
2. my red bike - Extreme (no mercy)
3. an ancient Monark Moped
4. I had a kick-bike as a kid

blogger no 5

Finally. They fell down on my doormat yesterday (yes, I have a mailslot in the door) - two copies of the glossy magazine I was in last month. I am blogger no 5. Two pictures and my words on a glossy magazine page. Somehow my words look way more important there than here. But I like the parts of my answers they used, and they haven't changed even a komma in the quotes. I still stick by my answers. For example:

What is the best thing about blogging?
To have a forum for my writing without deadlines or demand. No predefined purpose. I need to write. I need to express myself. If I didn't write a blog, I'd write something else, somewhere else.

That is why I'm here.

post secret

This link has been in my sidebar since like... forever, but did you all actually visit this page? It's so worth visiting. And it's updated every Sunday.

at last

My blog has been down. As you might have noticed. At last it's back. And at last I'm updating. I want to tell you all about my Canadian adventure, but right now it's late and I really don't want to write that whole thing just now. But I'm so exited my blog works again I'll take this opportunity to brag about my accomplishments. I'm talking knitting people! Haven't you missed my knitting adventure? I have. Here we go:

First: My very first own design, based on the technique of the Tempting from Knitty. I've made a HUGE wool sweater that I now wear every day. I so love this. And I MADE it. I made it UP! Yes, I'm proud. And thank you Mandy for all your help while I was in Vancouver! Since it's based on ideas from the Tempting design and it's my first attempt at designing my own stuff I've named this sweater the à-Tempting. Clever yes? It's made from Alaska, knitted on 6mm needles and the edging is green eskimo. Both yarns from Garnstudio. It turned out pretty close to what I imagined it to be in my first sketch don't you think?


A slightly less complicated project is the scarf I made for my friend Joachim. It's also my own design, with ripple stitch (A stitch pattern from this stich pattern bible I picked up in Calgary) framed by garter stitch. I cast it on while waiting for departure from Calgary Airport on January 10th. I cried all over it. Then I knitted all the way over the Atlantic Ocean and then for another 9 hours when I was stuck in Heathrow Airport in London. People giggled and pointed at me as I sat in a corner knitting with my laptop opened in front of me with a movie playing... I'm a multitask kind of girl, what can I tell you? Anyway, it turned out Great! And Joachim looked really happy about it too...


And last but not least, I'm working on Mandy's Spike scarf for my mother. I restarted it twice (being a 350 sts cast on it's quite an accomplishment in itself) but now it's coming along so nicely. I almost thought this was an over-my-head design, but I totally get it now. Mandy's a genious. Truly. And I love this thing! And I love me being able to pull this off! And Mandy, look! Stitch markers! The thing is crawling with them now. I learn from my mistakes at least...
Yarns used: Elisabeth Lavold: Silky Wool 05 and for the sqaures Rowan Kidsilk Spray .

And oh, right, I signed up for the Knitting Olympics!

This is such a brilliant idea from yarnharlot Stephanie, and my Swedish mailing list is full of exitement about this too. We're actually forming a Team Sweden over here! Go read about it! It's SO brilliant! And I've entered with the Birch Shawl. Again, I might be in over my head, but in my mind, that's the only way to do it right? I think I'll make a separate entry about my knitting philosophies one day...

Anyway, I'm back people! Watch out blog universe. I'm here to stay. Again.

soon

I'm back home in Sweden again after close to a month in Canada. There is a lot to say, and I'll tell you a lot about it. But not just yet. It has been a wonderful adventure in many ways and if I could I'd go back tomorrow. But it has also been an emotional journey, and I'm not ready to go through my brain looking for ways to phrase it all just yet. I'm still going through it just to figure out what's in there at all... So I'm sorry about my lack of blogging lately. I'll be back. Soon.

pack

Ok, here's a question for you: How the [insert profanity] do you pack to be gone for a month? I mean including Christmas gifts, two WIPs and my sense of "What if... let's bring this too!" it's impossible! I've planned and replanned. Packed and repacked. And did I mention I'm leaving tomorrow morning?
Any last minute tips? What can I NOT forget to bring except tickets and passport really? I'll be alright right? Tell me I'll be alright!
Yes, I'm a mess.

giving mood

A Christmas gift I ordered for someone else just arrived in the mail. It's a good sign when you really don't want to give it away, but keep it for yourself right? It's a sign it's a very very good gift right? Because I just wrapped it and I already feel anxiety over the fact I don't even get to see it again until Christmas, let alone own it... Something I'll have to wait to do for at least a little more than a month. Because I'm definately buying me the same thing when I get back home.

Back home... right... Not that I'm looking forward to that.

In two days I'll be about halfway to Canada. Probably already exhausted by then, but with a big grin on my face. I'm going.

I know I should've written more about this, but I haven't been able to. I'll write about it eventually though. That is a promise.

corset

Your wish is my command, so here it is - my corset.
In this particular photo with a shirt underneath it, which also looks totally fabulous. It can be worn in many ways, my very own miracle.
Neither picture is very flattering to my cute face though... I'm not as diabollically grinning and blurry as the first, nor as ...whatever I'm doing in that second one...
But look at The Corset!

glasgow

(oups... This became a rather long post. And it’s a translated one, so there might be some linguistical oddities in here...)

I took a trip away from myself. My thoughts were running around in my head like a hamster in a wheel and I couldn’t get out, so I thought a few days somewhere else might be a good idea.

It was a good idea. I went to Glasgow, or rather to Gourock [’gu:rrug] where my friends E and J live.

Finding my way to the home of E and J was its own adventure. I had a paper scribbled full with blank ink where directions such as: -end of terminal-escalator-corridor (smells funny)- last platform- train to Paisley Gilmour St (but buy ticket all the way)... could be read. I found it.

This station I just mentioned, Paisley Gilmour Street, was the first place that truly made me realize that I finally was Somewhere Else. This station could be the scene to almost any movie. It consists of two stonewalls, that from the outside look like a complete building, but instead of a salon it houses four railroad tracks that rush by. The commuters huddle around these tracks on three platforms. On the platforms there are little houses built up for station staff, ticket sales and public bathrooms. These are painted in pale yellow, with deep red details, many decorations and with frosted windows with flower decorations. It is very 1920s. I could just imagine people chasing each other in the stairs in between the platforms. I saw in my head how lovers said goodbye, and how white handkerchiefs were waved from train windows. I could have sworn I saw a man in a trench coat hand a mystical briefcase to a man in a bowler hat...

Eventually I found my way to an apartment with a fantastic view towards the highlands, lamps that occasionally worked, the world’s most comfortable bed and two of the most fabulous people there are as my hosts. They had asked me to pack for cold and clear weather, but as I arrived, so did the oh, so British lilac, gray, wet fog. Then E kindly explained how the view is even more fabulous in clear weather. However, the British grayish, foggy and wet winter with stone houses, railroad tracks, naked trees and green hills feels like a saga to walk around in. A saga where my raspberry red shawl plays the leading part rather than myself. The usual rainy weather at home doesn’t feel magical like that at all.

So, it’s my first night in Glasgow, and it’s already time for what I came this particular weekend to see: Antony and the Johnsons in concert. The ticket said 7pm, but the British go by another time schedule than the rest of us. The opening act went on stage at quarter past eight. At first we thought it was a girl just adjusting her guitar, ”she” suddenly spoke into the microphone with a very deep voice. We quickly named him by his obvious indian name: Little Braid.
Little Braid played his guitar skillfully and proved to all of us how much he must love Nick Drake. It didn’t do anything for me, since it just felt like a long wait for what we came to see.
Very much later he finally came on stage: Antony and his Johnsons. And it was worth the wait. E was tired and kept apologizing for yawning, but I think he thought it was good all the same. I didn’t think it was good. I thought it was magical.
You see, during the last few months, my thoughts have been running wild inside my head. Antony has tried to calm me by singing to me through my mp3-player. Now here he was. For real. And played the soundtrack of my mind. For real. And somehow he made my thoughts and feelings feel real too, and I cried quietly and shivered as it felt as if he sang just for me at times.
He plays himself like he’s an instrument. Only he knows how to give the strongest of notes the most fragile vibrato. Sometimes you fear he’s lost in the scales, but then he just strikes the next chord and he’s back home. I am a bird now.

Day two – Thursday. I took a train to Glasgow Central to go shopping for clothes. It didn’t go too well. All I found were DVDs at bargain prices and book offers. And I had my nose pointing towards the sky most of the time, since there’s so much to see. So many beautiful houses. I walked and walked and walked until my foot didn’t want to walk anymore. Then it was time to head home to Gourock anyway, so I did. And I became a regular attraction on the train since I sat there knitting a shawl, and this lady across the isle just couldn’t hide her interest...
That night was a quiet night in front of the television with E and J and Chinese take-out. We watched snippets of their large DVD-collection since they have a lot that they thought that I should see before I die, including among others Dylan Moran, Billy Connolly and the series Black Books. We laughed hysterically through it all.

Day three – Friday. Time for architecture and art tourism. I took an underground train to the university to find the Huntarian Gallery and the Mackintosh House. The underground was a curious experience. The trains are tiny. The whole system looks as if it was built by hobbits in the 1970s. Every person over 6 feet without a seat stretched out and sighed in relief every time the doors opened, only to fold themselves back in again as the doors closed. Funny.

Arriving at Hillhead near the university the air was heavy with the smell of a beer brewery. When the air is as thick and sweet as that you can have a few breaths for lunch... Glasgow University was another venue perfect for a movie set. I could hardly put my camera down. It was truly wonderful. Eventually I found my destination and that’s where I lost track of time. I guess some explanation is needed here: Rennie Mackintosh is a designer and architect from Glasgow. He has his very own style, but is considered an art noveau man. Art noveau is magical to me, and Mackintosh is one of the best. So give me a house where the home interior of Rennie Mackintosh and his wife has been reconstructed. Mix this up with a few Rembrandts and Whistlers in the gallery next to it, place a guide in there that loves to discuss both art, architecture, Sweden, Canada, Scotland and language with me – in a Scottish accent - and I’ll stay for a long time. There were signs in every room telling me not to use my camera, so I took out my sketchbook to be able to remember the fabulous fireplace. The friendly guide came up to me and said quietly in his Scottish accent that ”...if I’m in the corridor I won’t notice it. If you don’t use the flash...”, so I thanked him a million times and then took a few well chosen photos to cover as much as possible of this little piece of heaven.

Eventually I went back into town and had lunch at The Willow Tea Rooms, where Mackintosh did the interior. I enjoyed a smokie with a baked potato followed by a cup of honey almond tea that still makes my mouth water thinking of it. All of this sitting in a beautiful chair with a very high back. Friday was a good day.

Saturday was a fun day. All three of us went to town, bringing a bonus D, a lovely friend of E and J. This was the day I was going shopping for something I’ve wanted for a long time: a corset. My shopping for clothes hadn’t been too successful so far, but buying a corset was something I had planned all the way from Sweden. We went to the lady that once fitted J into her miracle, and my miracle was waiting to happen. See, this lady called Carol is a corset expert galore. She asked me a bunch of questions. Why did I want a corset? How and when was I going to use it? You see, Carol is very particular about who gets to buy her corsets. You must be at least 16 years old. You can’t buy one for a boyfriend’s sake, and as she puts it herself: ”If you don’t feel fabulous, don’t buy it”. She looked at me. She took one measurement. She smiled and called me ”voluptuous lady” and then went and fetched The Corset. It didn’t fit me well. It fit me perfectly. I felt fabulous so I bought it. It’s the second most expensive piece of clothing I’ve ever owned and I love it.

With my new love in a bag and a smile stretching from ear to ear I left Carol’s shop and J and me went back to the boys who were waiting in a café nearby. Café by the way... Mono is more than that. Café, vegetarian restaurant, record store, concert venue, health food store... and a must-see if you ever go to Glasgow.

D was going to show us a part of town filled with flea markets and antique stores. Too bad we got there just around closing time, but on the other hand I would probably have gone completely amok in there had it all been opened, so maybe it was all for the best. Anyway we found one big antique store that was still opened and I managed to buy only one pair of earrings in a store where I easily could’ve bought a lorry full of things. The earrings were and are truly beautiful though.

Saturday night was yet another night in the living room in Gourock, but with bonus D too since he tagged along. We laughed, drank a few cocktails and talked until after midnight. Eventually I packed my bags and looked forward to about three hours of sleep before a taxi came to take me to the airport.
The taxi driver was a funny man. I think we both laughed all the way to Prestwick Airport.

By the way, I don’t think I got more than about one hour of sleep in that comfortable bed in Gourock, but I slept through the whole flight. And Sunday afternoon I managed to fall asleep in the middle of the Godfather II... Yes, I was still a tad sleepy so to speak.

Anyway, I’ve had a few wonderful days in Glasgow. E and J are more fabulous than most people. Glasgow is beautiful. The views are breathtaking, the food is sweet, the accent is incomprehensible but lovely, the weather is gray and wet and my memories of it all are warm.

I’m definitely going back there one day. If not for all the other reasons, then just to see the view in clear weather...

happy birthday

There is a very apropriate soundtrack to listen to while reading this post. The artist is called Jens Lekman and you can find a pre-listen version of it here. Spencer called and played it to me this morning. You're so sweet! Thank you!

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I think I'm living life instead of writing about it right now. I see friends, I regain lost friends, I've gained a few new friends. I'm preparing for two trips. First, I'm leaving for Scotland on Wednesday, where I'll see two new but dear friends and I'll go see Antony & the Johnsons live in Glasgow. I can't wait.

Another thing I can't wait for is December 15. I'm going to Canada. Finally. A lot is going on and Spencer seems to be doing well, despite his impatience which is, if possible, worse than mine.

Today is my birthday (Whopdi-doo!) and I've celebrated this whole week as it seems now. I've had J and Jch over for dinner, I've been at K's house for a fabulous three course meal in my honour, and today I'll go see the Godfather movies and eat italian food with my friend E. His birthday is Wednesday so we're making a joint effort to congratulate each other today.

I found that picture of the cake on google, but for next year I really would like a Pantheon shaped cake...

looking for a lake

Some friends just seem to know by instinct what you need... That, or you've nagged about something for some time, and they chosse the exact right moment to fulfill those wishes.

My friend Jch took me out for a walk in the woods yesterday. Not the tiny almost-civilization-forest-type-areas, but the real thing. Nature.
I couldn't have had a better Sunday afternoon.

I had hardly had any sleep. I had all the wrong clothes on. I loved it. It felt spontaneous. It felt life saving. It was beautiful. And the fact that we laughed our way through two and a half hours of wrong turns and wet toes... We eventually found our lake, and I'll go back there in my mind all week.
Thank you Jch!

cute

I don't usually like to see myself in photos, but I have to share this one. I'm being silly and the colors are... well, yellow, but I still look darn cute. I think.

if you say so

You are Mohair.
You are a warm and fuzzy type who works well with
others, doing your share without being too
weighty. You can be stubborn and absolutely
refuse to change your position once it is set,
but that's okay since you are good at covering
up your mistakes.


What kind of yarn are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

publicity

This is insane. I got an email today, in Swedish obviously, but a translated version of it goes something like this:

Hi Lisa,

My name is [her name] and I am an intern reporter at [a huge, glossy woman's magazine here]. We're making a blog guide for our readers and would like to get some interviews with some good bloggers. I now wonder if you'd be interested to participate? If you want we could do the interview over the phone and I can email you the questions in advance. My phone number is [her phone number]

Sincerely
[her name again]

I have already accepted, but I do wonder what I got myself into. This primarily is about my blog in Swedish of course, but there's a link from there to here, and it's not all that different either. However I have already removed all the links to other blogs from my sidebar. I don't know if this is to generate more readers eventually and I don't know when either (I'm guessing not untilk next month at least), but I just felt as if it was the right thing to do. For now. I still LOVE you who were in that list though. Have no fear.

Isn't this Crazy?

baby got bag

Ace got a new home, and my whole life (yes, including knitting) fits into it.

I don't usually reach for the best stuff, but settle for a budget choice. This time however I got the Samsonite Sahora Expandable. That's right. It can double the size of the outer big compartment. It's comfortable to carry, even when packed heavily and it will facilitate my life a lot. I can now bring my office around. Yay.
Now all I've got to do is to Lisa it up a bit. So far it has a simple, but heart shaped, reflector keychain dangling from the side.

going

I bought it today. The Ticket.

I'll be in Canada from December 15 to January 10.
I can't even begin to tell you what this feels like.

So I won't.

I'm coming to see you!

self image

I went to a knit-along-café at the museum tonight. I had been looking forward to this for weeks, but never did I suspect that major revelations about myself were to be revealed among yarn, strangers and knitters chatting along about needles and patterns... But that’s what happened.
At the museum a guest lecturer is invited to each knit-along café to talk about their knitting. This time Pernilla Svenre was invited, and this was what I had been looking forward to.

(image from Pernillas' homepage)

I have admired her designs for years now, but I’ve never had the courage to try anything on. Why? Well, for lots of reasons. First of all they are expensive, and by principle I try not to try things I can’t afford on, since the anguish of falling in love with something you can’t get is easily avoided that way. Another reason is I never thought anything of hers would ever fit me. This is where the insights and revelations come in, but to describe them I need to start at the beginning. Starting at the beginning however means that this will become an entry I’ve waited a long time to write. I’m afraid of the feelings that might surface when the words for this find their way through my fingers and keyboard onto my screen. These are words I think and feel almost every day, but they are difficult to articulate and to throw out there.

In my teens I exercised a lot. I wasn’t very good at anything, but I loved exercising. I was always on the bench at soccer games. I didn’t care. Team sports aren’t my cup of tea, but I loved practice, and eventually I found aerobics, which was the combination of dance and exercise I had been looking for. I loved it.
Then something happened. I’m not sure what and when, but I lost myself somewhere along the way and I stopped everything. I didn’t exercise at all for years and I gained weight rapidly. Obviously.

To me, my extra kilos are like snot to somebody with a cold. It has to do with a disease and it’s something that should go away as the disease is cured. But extra kilos are not as easy to get rid of as snot, and my self-image is nowhere near what I see in the mirror. Therefore, my self-confidence when it comes to looks is not the best. I cover it up with an outgoing attitude, but buying clothes is difficult since I feel as if I’m shopping for somebody else. Somebody I don’t want to be.
This is something all about me. I know rationally that I can be seen as beautiful the way I am, but it doesn’t matter as long as I don’t see it myself.

Pernilla Svenre showed some of her clothes today and talked about how she tries to show femininity and sensuality in her creations. She talked about how clothes are automatically feminine when they show off hips, curves and above all the inward curve of the lower part of the back. These are all things I get complimented on. My extra kilos are still shaped in curves and I am thankful that I’m not carrying them all on my belly. Suddenly while she was talking, holding up a long, thin creation knitted in fine mohair something snapped. This sweater wasn’t designed to hang loosely around a skinny Twiggy sized body. It was designed to show off a body. Curves. Possibly even me.

This sounds absurdly ridiculous, I know, but this was huge to me. These clothes are works of art I have admired and feared for a long time. Feared because I was afraid they could show me my worst sides rather than my best. Afraid that their beauty was not for me.
I might not afford Pernillas’ clothes, but I sure will go and try some on, and if something fits I might actually buy it simply because it would be like conquering a demon.

I sat there knitting along on a black wool sleeve and suddenly found myself on the verge of tears. Silly maybe, but huge to me. I almost cried because I liked me the way I am. If Pernilla Svenres’ clothes can show me as beautiful I might believe that beauty myself. Her clothes could be the compliment I haven’t been able to give myself yet.

This might be part of the new life I’ve been talking about, where working on my self image is a huge part of things. But I’d like to thank Pernilla for showing her image of sensuality in her clothes. Somehow they finally gave me some insights about my own sensuality.

I just wonder when I’ll get passed myself and my fear of me. I know I’m good enough, but that knowledge definitely isn’t anchored to my gut yet if I almost cry from liking myself sitting at a knit-along café.

Anyway, here’s my project. It’s taking forever but I included a sketch of what I imagining it to be eventually.



On another note I also included the X-ray of my foot in the post about feet I made a few days ago. I’m sorry Mandy if I make you look at that text again. I hope you found your skin. It would be creepy to meet you in a month and a half if you hadn’t…