Ruffles while I run, and a side of YOLO.

So, among the many things I say and do making my own workout gear is now  one of them.  Posting said photos of that gear is now a given.  Read on, as I may regret this in the morning.  

First up: Sewaholic's Dunbar Top.  Yea . . . let's just say I was in desperate need of running tops and pants since I painted, overhauled, and revamped my tiny city apartment this summer.  As in, 90 percent of my running gear found its way to the bin with paint marks and rips.  C'est la vie.  

Anywho . . . the top. I used some left over black swimsuit lining from the suit I made last summer, left over mesh from the bra rabbit hole, and some band elastic from the previous venture.  The purple performance knit my Mom got me over the summer, I had slightly less than a yard.  I was going to make a bra, but hey . . . sports top with a built in bra is even better! 

For a truly wearable muslin, this bad boy was 1.5 hours from PDF purchase, print, tape, cut, and serge.  Yea.  That easy.  I made a straight up size 16.  No alts.  Seriously.  Then again, knits are forgiving and Tasia is spot on for sizing of curves and such.  

For your feasting eyes, the quick one I posted on IG . . . and yes, I do pitiful attempts at yoga in my studio.  That side pose, well, I haven't been able to do that in awhile.  So double score.  Workout top, the girls stayed put, and a pose worthy of a pic.  

I really like this get up.  I can't say enough good things about it, as it even flatters . . . no more of the workout shirts that make me look like a neon colored ball because nothing says sexy like a curvy chick cussing along the sidewalk looking like a human beach ball.  

Since ya'll want to see the full deal . . . this camera angle makes me look like a size eight.  Le sigh.  I wish.  For the record, I was done killing myself at this point.

The guts, per se.  

Seriously, this is about as easy as making pie.  Probably easier.  I attached the elastic with the machine and did the hem as a zig zag.  Why? Wearable muslin.  And for the next go around, I'd probably do the same.  

 

And, here's the real juice to your meal . .  the sports bra.  Yup.  Just as I never have to go bra or jean shopping again I can now eschew sports bra shopping.  Cha cha.  This bad boy was maybe an hour. 

Same size.  Though, I had leftover swimsuit fabric. . . .score.  And . . . instead of binding the edges I had fold over elastic and . . .some ruffled elastic.  My sports bra has ruffles on it.  Like a girl.  I'm seriously making the next one with pink ruffles.  Come payday, but yea . . . ruffles while I run.  

For the record, I serged the edges (the side ones) together, flipped it ride side out, and then added the ruffle elastic.  Never thought I'd be so over-the-moon with ruffles.  LOL.  

Oh yea, who doesn't love some good tats? The compass rose points to the NW, since I started out there . . . and I'm a travel writer more often than not (historically and via pop culture).  The Anchor and butterly: On a September day in 1992 I was diagnosed with Lupus.  Twenty-three years later I'm still here, and my Lupus tattoo is cooler than yours.  

And yes, those are post its on my wall above my computer.  They remind me to pay the electric, buy Tanfer's must haves for our meet-up next month, a couple of research notes, and one . . . is plans for a late December holiday.  The one reminding me to take my Lupus gremlins is on the fridge. 

For the record, I came in from a three mile run (at . . . drumroll please . . . negative 12 a mile) and while I cussed every step of that adventure in round girl concrete thumping I took some quick pics for ya'll.  In the course, because the past month has been so pleasant and 2015 loves me, I broke my tripod.  Yes, I broke my f-ing tripod.  C'est la vie.  Merde. 

That shit stays put.  No overflow.  And . . . I've worn it on like ten work outs in the past couple of weeks (lots of washing has been going on) . . . and, seriously, the Northern States have been staying put.  When you are the size mine are, staying put is not a minor feat of gravity yo.  

And, while my body is my own this is about as comfortable as I get with it these days.  I might regret this in the morning, but you only live once and I could do worse.  I probably have done worse.  

Oh, my leggings are me made too . . . those are on the last haul as I just took the waist in . . . and why is it that the scale says one horrible thing but my clothes say another? There's a first world bitch, but yea . . . 

 And, you're welcome.

I'm gonna get so many skanky emails and commentary now.

Oh well.