As an Aspiring Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman (that’s a real job you can get, right?), I sometimes have to do things like buy a lab coat for grad school. Obviously I’m not going to med school or anything, but I’m still going to call myself Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman when I graduate.
Before school started, I considered calling Mary Ellen’s husband and just asking if he had a spare lab coat laying around (since I think he might be a scientist or something), but then I remembered a few things about my future lab coat
- I had to get the fucker embroidered, which rules out borrowing anything
- Despite my beautiful feminine physique, I have super long monkey arms and sleeves are never, ever, long enough.
So, I was left with the sad option of trying on every lab coat in the school bookstore while trying to look really casual since it was orientation day and I didn’t want to be the kind of person who pays too much attention to lab coats. After about 14 coats, it became abundantly clear that our society is maliciously discriminating against tall people. I couldn’t spend much time planning a protest, though, because I still needed to buy a coat and get on with the day. I ended up getting a men’s coat with the intention of popping the arm seams and then re-hemming them, which is precisely what I did when the coat arrived. I then left it on a hanger with loose threads all over the place for many months until I remembered that I need to wear it soon.
Don’t worry, guys. I’m going to break this down into a simple, no-nonsense process. I’m pretty sure this would also work for people with T. rex arms wanting to shorten their sleeves (I’m looking at you, Mary Ellen).
Step one: pop the seam and then pin it with pins in the right place.
Step two: Probably iron the sleeves so your hem line doesn’t look like shit.
Step three: Clear off your desk or table so you can get your sewing machine out.
Step four: Remember that there is a thing called “the bobbin” and that you will need the right colored thread on it. Hold back tears.
Step five: Find your sewing machine manual because, without it, you will never remember how to “wind the bobbin” (which is surprisingly not a euphemism).
Step six: Actually get your shit together and carefully start sewing. Try to go slowly so the hem doesn’t look too wonky.
Step seven: Look professional as fuck.
Step eight: (you could probably omit this step) Remember that an older lady you used to work with once advised you to burn loose threads with a lighter so they don’t fray. Proceed to actually burn your newly hemmed coat. Decide to hang it up in the closet with its pretty new scorch mark and pour yourself a glass of wine whiskey.
Knowledge Brings Fear