This Second Person column is the experience of Whitney Swinimer, who lives in Halifax. For more information about CBC’s First Person reports, please see the Wiki.
I’ve been overweight since I was eight.
For most of my existence, I hated my brain. My fat was something I should be afraid of during my teenage and early adult years. It resulted in bullying at school, teary-eyed appropriate areas, and fad diets that never worked in any way.
I was unhappy because, no matter what I did, I was still overweight.
Never was that more apparent than when I attempted to buy clothing. All of my friends who were straight-ahead ( who wore clothes from size 0 to 14 ) would go to the mall and show me cute clothing from different stores while I was only allowed to wear tent-like, overpriced clothing that made me appear decades older than I actually was.
The popularity of online shopping has somewhat superior things, but the double-edged weapon of buying online prevents me from trying anything until after I’ve spent my income. I have to trust the inconsistent sizing guidelines on websites, and sometimes those clothes aren’t returnable.
It wasn’t until I started knitting in 2015 that I realized I could avoid those painful fitting room visits and pricey, non-refundable purchases. Instead of having to change my body to meet the clothes, I could create clothes that would match my body. It was a discovery.
However, I didn’t get off to the best start when I took up knitting. In fact, my first job was a complete failure. After watching The Hunger Games: Catching Fire and falling in love with a coat worn by the figure Katniss, I was inspired to weave. Although it was far out of my means to purchase a ready-made one, I did manage to find a copy knitting structure for about $10.
Call it joy or deaf optimism, but without actually knowing how to weave, I decided to take on this transitional design. Knitting this coat was a heartbreaking practice. There were times of stress, mistakes made and a couple of sorrowful failures.
In the end, I had a finished sweater. until I put it on and it began to unravel. I had no idea how to properly finish my piece because I was but a novice that it wouldn’t yet fall apart. Lesson learned.
With each new job I made, I fell in love with weaving and continued to improve my abilities despite that sluggish beginning. A year later, I was constantly making clothes for myself. Sure, I got a properly- appropriate attire but I even got so much more than I expected.
My personal aesthetic pulls romantic, and cottagecore is my feeling. However, it can be challenging to find clothing that fits my personal type and measurements. As opposed to direct sizes, plus size clothing options are severely limited and generally emphasize hiding your brain, because who is overweight would be glad of their system and want to show it off?
In comparison, the clothes I knitted for myself are in my favorite design and colors, personalized fit to my body. When I wear them, I feel wonderful. My hand-knit parts are a celebration of my body precisely as it is. Because I couldn’t always find clothes that matched both my body and style, I struggled with loving my body for so long.
Knitting solved that problem, but it also helped me feel cozy taking up space — literally and figuratively. As a teen, I never imagined I could feel as confident as I do now, and that wouldn’t have happened without knitting. Now, when I wear a gown that I’ve knit for myself, I feel assured, wonderful and happy.
The jacket I wore at my marriage is my favorite hand-knit material. Many wives who knit make themselves a marriage shawl, but I’m not much of a blanket man, so I decided to weave a jacket.
After looking through hundreds of styles, I eventually came across one that was precisely what I was looking for: size-inclusive with feminine details and bubble arms. Ironically, it was designed by a knitting artist who is also based in the Maritimes. It sounded like it was meant to be.
Every decision I made was made in the pattern’s perfect fit, the material created by the thread was floating and ethereal, and most importantly, the color properly matched my dress. I had come a long way from the coat that was disassembled when I first put it on.
My bride jacket is a perfect illustration of how knitting my own clothing influenced my desire to sculpt my body. I was completely self-assured that my body was exactly as it is: fat, and that I could look lovely in clothes that matched my design.