I Bought a Sewing Machine...Now What?

I guess I should sew. That's the obvious answer. Except I don't quite know how to do that yet. I bought the cart before the horse knowing that I don't know the first thing about horses and I'm kind of scared of them. I'm not actually scared of horses, I mean sewing, I just get intimidated by my lack of skills and the possibility of failing so I just don't end up trying at all. That is why I never played sports in school, or asked a guy out, or did anything that put myself in a place where I could fail. If Sam hadn't asked me out, I would still be single to this day. So the next obvious question is why did you buy the sewing machine in the first place? Because it's pretty. Seriously, it's a gorgeous machine. It's the 160th Singer Anniversary sewing machine. If I'm to ever learn how to sew, it's going to be on this pretty baby. It can decorative stitch all sorts of fancy designs at the push of a button! When I bought it, I told my mom I was going to decoratively stitch the shit out of everything! So far, Annie has decoratively stitched her shorts and I've fixed Sam's scrubs. I'm doing a horrible job at it and can't sew straight to save my life, but Sam's pockets are staying in place. That's the whole point and no one has told Sam that it looked like his pockets had been fixed by a blind, one-armed monkey. Yet. I also haven't figured out how to get the thread on the bobbin, but Annie does so I just ask her to do it. I don't know what I'm going to do whenever she moves out. I've also fixed a few of my shirts and they don't look too horrible. I really do need to learn how to sew properly. My body shape is so not normal and it means a lot of my clothes need little things adjusted to make them fit properly. God was in a random sort of mood when my genetics were thrown around. I'm 5'3'' and most of that is in my torso. I have the same torso length as my friend Aaron, a 5'9''ish dude. So I have an abnormally long torso precariously placed on short, thick legs. To make matters weirder, my narrow rib cage is graced with voluptuous bosoms. I'm not complaining about my bosoms but they complicate life and there are so many pretty things I can't wear because of them. Oh, and my belly button is absurdly high on my stomach. I don't know why, it just is. Sam will poke me where my belly button should be and then jokingly look at me funny and them move his finger the three inches north to where it actually resides. So my shoulders are normal and I have a small frame when it comes to my loverly arm pits. My legs, as I've mentioned are short and and thick. I have the legs of an Eastern European milk maid circa 1875. They aren't pretty. My hips are narrow and my thighs are anything but. Speaking of butts, mine is actually nice, thank you Jesus! So when it comes to buying a shirt, for it to fit my bosom, it ends up being too big under my arms. Because my torso is so long and my bosom is big, the shirt will stop where my belly button is suppose to be. My pants will fit my waist but are too tight on my thighs with 5 inches of excess length. But pants from the petite section rise up so much when I sit, my cankles are exposed. Yes, I have cankles. Sam tells me they make me more sturdy. That's a lie, if they made me more sturdy, I'd be less clumsy. So I have to buy shirts that are too big and pants that are too long. I also procrastinate so getting these items to a seamstress doesn't happen frequently enough. My closet is full of things I don't wear because they need alterations. If I could fix them myself, I'd have a much easier time looking put together in clothes that fit me and not sort-of fit me. Anyway, I need to get the courage to straddle the sewing machine and learn how to ride it? I've mixed my expressions up along the way. Regardless, I need to learn how to sew. Tomorrow or the next day...