Knitting Porn

My next door neighbor Sandy has severe Rheumatoid Arthritis, which she exacerbates by gardening and knitting. This time last year, she knit Cameron a white blessing (Christening) blanket and three NICU hats. On Saturday, I returned from the grocery store to find an urgent voice mail message from her.

"I need your body," she said simply.

I was a little confused and frankly weirded out until Sandy clarified that she was knitting a sweater for her youngest daughter Mackenzie and intended to use me as a mannequin. I was, of course, happy to oblige since Mackenzie and I have identical body types, except for a two inch and twenty pound height and weight difference.

When I pointed this out to Sandy, she was understandably sympathetic. "Just suck in your stomach and wear a padded bra," she told me.

I brought my most compassionate child--Kellen--with me for moral support.

As I tried on the half-finished sweater, Kellen busied himself flipping through Sandy's knitting design books.

All of a sudden, he stopped in his tracks.

"Why is this girl?...." he asked, stopping mid-sentence. He pointed at a picture in the middle of one of the books.

I turned to find myself staring a photograph of a woman in a handmade sweater and underpants.


Sandy, who matured to adulthood in the sixties, smiled knowingly.

I was less than amused.

"What kind of hobby is this?" I asked pointing to her knitting paraphernalia. The basket of yarn looked innocent enough. Little did I know that it was part of Satan's slippery slide.

Sandy didn't defend her possession of knitting porn. Instead she asked me if I would be willing to try on the sweater again after she finished it.

I thought for a minute before I agreed. I told Sandy that I would model the sweater but not the underpants.

I prefer paper.