I’ve been wearing a ring from my husband for over seven years now. I still remember the way the wind blew my hair to the side & the hot pink sundress I wore & him on one knee in the sand. We ran back to the beach house & opened a bottle of champagne & the next morning, I laid in bed & spun the diamond on my finger, letting it catch the sunlight. A year later, he slipped another band on my finger when I wore a white dress. A few months later, he brought home the front band as a “Happy Thursday” gift because we were 23 with no responsibilities & he’s wonderful like that.
I’m one of those girls that never takes her rings off. I don’t take them off to shower or play at the pool or beach or sleep. The only time my rings came off my finger were when they didn’t fit during pregnancy & every day postpartum, I tried to slip them back on until they fit. There’s a significant pale strip on my left ring finger, complete with band indentions.
My rings are a part of me, a part of who I am.
When Doug bought my rings, they came with a protection plan & I am diligent about having them inspected & cleaned every six months. Every time I have them cleaned, the jeweler smiles & asks if I’d like to have them re-dipped to make them really sparkle. I always say no because it’s not a process done in-house & I cannot bear the idea of being without them for a week.
But last week, I finally said yes & handed them over. Just my engagement ring & front ring so that I’d still have my wedding band, then I would switch them the following week. My heart thudded & my throat caught as she put them in a plastic bag with my signature & locked them in a safe. I felt stripped & vulnerable without my rings & I don’t know why because I still had my husband by my side. A week later, I picked them up & they sparkled like seven years ago & I couldn’t stop flashing them in the store lights. There was a new girl behind the counter & when I handed over my wedding ring to be sent off & began wringing my hands with anxiety, she laughed at me. “What?! You’re sending them off in sections?”
I stared at her. “I haven’t been without them for seven years. This is a big step for me,” I explained. She laughed again.
She was kind of an asshole about it, to be honest.
As we left my wedding ring behind, I turned to Doug & asked if I was crazy. He smiled & said that nope, he felt the same way about his. It is so much more than just a ring.
Do you take your rings off? Or are you as oddly physically attached to them as I am?