I grew up having to iron. I hated it. Cotton wrinkled so badly then that you had to spray it down and then add starch. Cotton still wrinkles.
Back in the day, my chore was to iron our sheets, pillowcases, shirts, and dresses. I hated it. Oh. I said that. Well, its true. And if the iron seemed to have only one temp so if I left it against something a fraction of a moment too long, it scorched and left the pointy end to the square end of a mark. Then, I heard about how I had to concentrate!
If I had known there was going to be ironing in quilting, I might have...well, no. I actually love quilting so much that I am willing to pick up an iron again. However, now its called "Pressing" and there is a difference.
One of the prices we pay toward achieving freedom is to name our slavery. No matter what it is that holds us back, until we slip off those chains, we will hold onto the negative memories, carry resentment for those times and against the slave-drivers, and end up avoiding the present moment.
All those borders that were pinned and pieced yesterday need pressing. Also, the backs for those quilts need to be pressed and pieced. I cannot sit here and whine about how I swore that when I grew up, I would never iron again.
I went through that stage, only buying clothing that passed the twist-in-my-hand test and did not wrinkle. I am a grown woman working with 100% cotton fabrics, all of which eventually wrinkle. I've actually started on my second bottle of this Best Press clear starch. Oh, I know I could make my own, but I like this product. I am keeping the spray bottles just in case I change my mind. And isn't that what it is all about? Growing up, evolving, thinking differently, finding freedom by facing those demons that keep us shackled.
I don't think it is ever easy to break a habit whether it is a negative one or something productive that simply might be outdated. Change is inevitable, change is good.