InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "o( ^ ^)----C< o_o)PINCHATTACK!"

Lydia Martin personifies (eunoia) wrote in paradisolog,
@ 2016-04-22 16:35:00

Entry tags:

~lydia martin (eunoia), ~mikhel rayt (nameless_one)

WHO: Lydia Martin and ~~OTA~~ Mikhel Rayt
WHERE: Far side of the main camp, out of the way of construction
WHEN: Friday afternoon
WHAT: Trying to make herself maternity clothes. Poorly.
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: OPEN, Incomplete

I feel the air upon my face, forget the mess I’m in. Hold me again, don't count mistakes; I lost track of them.

After the last comment she'd made in the conversation with Scott, Lydia tore her comm bracelet off and threw it onto the bed, snatching up the fabric and palm cord she'd been working on before making the mistake of taking a break to see what was on the network. “Thanks for having my back,” she muttered snappishly under her breath and she wasn't sure whether it was directed at anyone in particular. Probably not, since literally no one had stepped up, to her knowledge, to call out the fact that it was nobody's fucking business when she, Malia, or any woman on the island decided to become pregnant. She left the shelter she shared with Stiles, deciding that putting physical space between herself and the idiocy happening on the stupid network was probably the best, and maybe only, way for her to bite her tongue and not end up making it infinitely worse than it already apparently was.

Shut up, Lydia, no one wants to hear from the crazy pregnant teenager, even if she’s actually right for a freaking change, she told herself, face burning and hands shaking. Without making eye contact with anyone working on the construction, Lydia skirted calmly around the site to keep from drawing unwanted — read: any — attention to herself. She held the front of Isaac's shirt out in front of her a she did, because she'd rather they got a peek at her panties than at her ever-growing baby bump, and she headed up across the camp to settle on the sand in a spot as far as physically possible from everyone else without ending up in the rain.

Lydia plopped herself down on the sand and she started to lay out in her lap the fabric she'd cut yesterday from the white bolt. She was careful to keep her midsection covered, because in spite of the fact that everyone knew she was pregnant, she was still uncharacteristically and deeply self-conscious of the way her middle was expanding to accommodate the growing baby.

Yesterday, she'd measured and cut fabric for little belt loops after basically wrapping the fabric around herself, placing pins, and sewing the bottom half of thing quickly shut, with a few minutes at the sewing machine, into a completely shapeless dress with an open back and no sleeves. Today, she planned on giving it shape by sewing the little strips into place to thread the palm cords through.

Lydia intentionally closed her eyes while she smoothed the fabric out on her lap, threaded needle between her teeth, to give herself a moment to push everything from the network out of her mind so that she could properly focus on the task at hand. Maybe, she thought, if it took her long enough to accomplish the goal of completing the dress, she would be more calm and she could let it go like a big girl. She wished her mother was here with her, not for the first time since conceiving, to guide her through the tough parts without Lydia having to feel like she was depending on other people. It was a mother’s job to take care of her child.

With that in mind, Lydia pressed one of her hands against the bump while taking the needle out of her mouth with the other. “I’m trying to chill out, baby,” she whispered, bowing her head as if to direct the barely-there sound of her voice to the fetus, “I promise. I’m sorry. I’m trying to chill out. I’m going to chill out. I know stress is bad for you — for us — so I’m going to chill. I am.”

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

eunoia
2016-04-23 12:50 am UTC (link)

"It's okay," Lydia assured him. Really, she ought to be more in tune to her surroundings even when she was lost in thought. "I don't mind, I just wasn't paying enough attention," she added.

I had a sister, she almost said, but just because Allison felt like it didn't mean that it was true, so Lydia held her tongue. "I learned how to make a scrunchie in home ec sophomore year, even though no one's worn a scrunchie in twenty years unless they were dressed up for Halloween," she said with a huff. "But that's kind of what I was thinking, yeah. Empire waist," she agreed, giving him a little smile. "I don't think it looks period all the time, and they're so adorable." She left out the part where she'd never actually worn anything with an empire waist because she always figured they were designed for fat girls. ...now she kind of was one and she was ashamed of herself for how shallow she'd always been.

"I was trying to put these little strips," she said, holding the fabric out to show him where she'd already pinned the strips of fabric meant to be the belt loops through which she'd thread the palm cord, "and then I have this cord I made out of palm fibers and I was going to use it as a high belt..." she sighed and pursed her lips. "I'm not very good at this," she admitted. She didn't seem to be good at much of anything on this island so far and for someone who prided herself at being the best at everything, that was a tough pill to swallow.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -