Last week I achieved yet another domestic milestone: I finally learned how to iron.
Side note: I should really start a spinoff blog called “The Domestication of BreezyK”. At this rate, I will have completely morphed into the Pioneer Woman by 2016.
- De-seeding pomegranates
- Making delicious grilled cheese sandwiches (Ok, so I really just ate this. )
Pressing the extra water out of tofu
Wearing Aprons (like a BOSS)
But I digress.
When it comes to household tasks, ironing, has long been my Waterloo. I have never been able to master it- mostly because I haven’t tried. Just the look of the thing makes me want to run screaming in the other direction and curl up in the fetal position.
I think I inherited my resistance to this menacing metal appliance from my mother, who loathed ironing as well. Presumably in an act of defiance, she never taught her 5 children how to use one. This wasn’t really a problem for me growing up, since all I wore were t-shirts and jeans anyway, but it really began rearing its ugly head once I finished school and got a job at a law firm.
Suddenly I was immersed in a world of suits, silk blouses, and relentless pleats. So how did I get by without looking like this all the time, you might ask?
I dug deep into my arsenal of iron-avoidance techniques, which include:
1. Putting things in the dryer on low heat for a few minutes
I know this is bad behavior for a couple of reasons.
- most of these clothes are “dry-clean only” (whatever that means)
- it uses a crap-load of energy. Every time I do it I can literally feel David Suzuki’s disapproving glare.
2. Hanging stuff in the bathroom while I shower
Again, this is not without its issues:
- it doesn’t really get all of the wrinkles out unless you take a 45 minute, scalding hot shower
- results in damp clothing, which you have to wait at least 20 minutes to put on
3. Blowing on the wrinkles with a hairdryer
- surprisingly effective, yet time-consuming
4. Just letting stuff hang there for a while
- In my experience with extreme laziness, if you just leave things alone for long enough, they tend to take care of themselves
5. Using my hair straightener
- a sad but true confession – I once used my hair straightener to iron out wrinkles on a shirt in a pinch.
- FYI- since most straighteners are like, 300 times hotter than the typical iron- I wouldn’t recommend this at home.
6. Putting stuff under my mattress
- I did this with dress pants one, and it worked ok, but it sort of kept me up all night, because I was convinced I could feel them underneath me like the Princess and the Pea.
As you can see, all of these methods work with varying degrees of accuracy and effectiveness. You would think with the great lengths I have gone to develop ironing substitutes, I could simply invest the time to learn how to iron. But you would be underestimating my pig-headedness.
So basically, instead of this:
I typically look more like this:
Anyway- after nearly 29 years of successfully avoiding the iron, last week I was finally forced to confront my biggest domestic fear head on.
We were rushing to get ready for a wedding, when my boyfriend suddenly said, “Hey babe, would you mind ironing this shirt for me?”
I paused. “Um, why don’t I just write on the card instead?”
“I’ve already done that.” he replied, “It would be a big help if you could iron this” handing me his dress shirt.
I nervously took the shirt from him with two fingers, like a hot potato when I knew the music was about to stop. I immediately began scanning the room for the nearest exit.
“Wait, do you not now how to iron?” he asked, correctly reading my evasiveness.
“But what do you do instead?”
I quickly ran through the list above. The expression on his face was a mix of pure horror and disbelief.
“Ok, well, if that’s working for you.” he said, turning to do the task himself.
“No wait,” I said, swallowing every ounce of my pride. “I want to learn. It’s time”
He led me through a quick ironing tutorial, explaining the different techniques and settings (did I mention I’m dating Danny Tanner?) . Then, he watched as I practiced on an old t-shirt for a few minutes. And guys, I gotta say- it wasn’t that hard.
In fact, I’m kind of a ringer.
I’d like to say that since then, I’ve been an ironing machine; pressing my jeans and undershirts like a true square; but I must admit that I’ve largely reverted back to my multitude of avoidance tactics. I don’t know, maybe I enjoy the arbitrary sense of suspense it all adds to my life or something. In any event, I don’t run screaming when I see the iron anymore, and that’s gotta count for something.
Question of the Day: What household task do you avoid the most?