I was in highschool. Probably around the age of 15. We had sewing class (I don't know if they still do sewing class nowadays) and the theme of that month was: sew your own skirt. I sucked at sewing. It didn't interest me either. In fact, I could care less. I liked the teacher though. We got along well but sewing was just not my cup of tea.
My mother is a seamstress. She sews for a living. The most obvious thing to do, was to let her make the skirt for me. I didn't even assist her or asked her about the way she was going to design the skirt. I knew what it was supposed to look like, because my teacher had briefed us.
The next time in class, we had to show our work in progress. Not one student could show anything decent or be optimistic about the assignment. To the surprise of my classmates and the teacher, my skirt was already finished. The teacher was full of joy and she asked me to step forward and show the others how I had made the skirt. All of a sudden, I was sick to my stomach. I told her I felt nauseous Could I go see the school nurse?
Without any doubt, my skirt looked the most professional and I got fabulous grades on my report card. Was I proud of myself? Did I learn anything? Apparently not.. my husband is good at sewing buttons on shirts or fixing holes in clothes. He didn't have a mom to fix everything for him. He had nobody else to rely on. He learned a good lesson..