For those of you fortunate enough not to know this, the character Bella in the Twilight novels becomes pregnant with some kind of demon spawn that breaks her spine from the inside. I don't know the whole story because I believe the whole series to be a vile piece of sick crap with nothing to recommend it, and I have no idea why obese teenage girls are so in love with it apart from the glimmering hope that somewhere, somehow, even losers like themselves can someday be creepily stalked by possessive, glittery Greek gods who want to eat them, and not in a good way.
Actually, I have read the Twilight books. I read them to find out what the big deal was, and I still don't know. I have therefore attempted to forget them as much as possible, which, regrettably, isn't very much since the fucking fans won't let me.
Some fans are worse than others.
Some glittery-eyed (no, not "sparkly") Twilight fanatic knitted this . . . thing. It is Bella's womb, complete with fetal demon spawn. I hesitate to describe it as "bad Bella's womb," because that rather suggests the existence of a "good Bella's womb," and there is simply no way a hand knitted bit of morbidly, excessively personal Twilight—fucking Twilight—fan fiction could ever be more than creepy. Surely, though, there must be knitted Twilight fan art that isn't revolting. Little dolls or something. And not little fetal dolls. This womb thing, however, falls squarely into the category of "why the FUCK would you EVER knit THAT?!" And maybe a little into the category of "This person should seek (more) psychiatric help."
Ignoring the disturbing implications of what such a knitted creation says about what goes on in the mind of Twilight fanatics, let us examine the infamous felted womb itself. It is quite a complex affair, made of several different colors representing in grotesque detail the knitter's idea of what a woman's womb looks like, inside and out. It even opens.
Good God.
Once again ignoring the implications of what is wrong with the knitter, I'll hastily skip to the flaws in the knitting itself.
I will admit that the detail, such as it is, is admirable. It takes a great deal of patience to knit that much detail into a project, especially when felting is involved.
I cannot tell what the quality of the stitch work is from that picture, but I suspect it possesses a regrettable sturdiness as felted projects tend to. It looks like several pieces have been woven together, which, as with the detail mentioned above, requires a great deal of time. A little too much, actually.
Having said that, the shape of the womb is completely wrong. Wombs are not perfect spheres, and they definitely do not hatch open like eggs as portrayed above. That beak-like appendage on the closed womb is probably the most frightening part of the image; it looks like the womb is about to creak open, lunge forward, and suck you into its gaping maw while it cackles with glinting back eyes somewhere in the back of its . . . uh . . . self. If that were what the knitter was going for, fine. But somehow I doubt it.
Also, what the hell is going on with that black sludge in the middle of the inside? The last time I checked, real wombs are filled with a bunch of pink goopy crap. Maybe it's black here to represent the podling's wickedness. And indeed it must be wicked not to need an umbilical cord. That little fetus looks more like Rodin's The Thinker in miniature than a three-week-old fetus. If Rodin worked with mashed potato, that is.
But, again, I simply cannot escape the revulsion caused by this knitted womb. I cannot fathom why anyone would create such a thing. This goes well beyond a Compo hat, a Doctor Who scarf, a Harry Potter scarf, or a Jack Ryan sweater. This speaks of a level of fanaticism that will fade only with the aid of electroshock therapy.
Please, people, control your knitting urges. If you find yourself desiring to knit fan art, make it a garment like one a character wore, or at least a stuffed animal or something. The Internet did not need this picture. We all saw and survived Tub Girl and Two Girls One Cup, but this . . . this is just too much. Oh, this or the returns for a Google Image search for "fish tongue," but that's another story related to another knitting disaster which will never see this page.