ring

I have written about 50 blog posts on various topics since the beginning of September. Unfortunately (or fortunately) those posts have been written entirely in my head.

I have a lot to process. And a lot that I want to capture and document as I make my sort-of-delinquent trek into starting a family. But in addition to all of my typical excuses that keep me from sitting down and writing a post, my inner mocker has been working overtime lately. My inner mocker's favorite phrase is how cliché (said in a tone of voice not unlike Stewie from Family Guy). This is the downside of both being a reluctant cynic (i really don't like that part of my personality) and doing what seems like young-girl-things (weddings? that's for teenagers!) later in life. So the dialogue in my head goes something like this: Write about my distaste for wedding planning? How cliché. Write about how I vascilate between annoyance with the institution of marriage and the absolute thrill of entering said institution? How cliché. Write about how much I love this guy I'm about to be stuck with for the rest of my life? Soooo cliché.

I guess the only option is for me to embrace who I am.

I am a cliché.

So now that that's established, let's talk about my complicated feelings around wearing an engagement ring. Today seemed like a good day for this topic because upon opening my Google Reader this morning (I was recently forced to let go of Bloglines as they are closing up shop) I saw this post.

So. Engagement rings.

To be perfectly honest, I rarely notice other women's engagement rings. I never really have. I'm sure I've disappointed more than a few newly engaged women over the course of my life because I have not noticed nor have I asked to see their ring. This mostly has to do with my lack of observation skills and complete ineptitude when it comes to jewelry and accessories of any sort. It just doesn't register. But as I've aged, my lack of concern for engagement rings has evolved into a small protest of sorts against what is appropriately labeled the diamond olympics. Competition and comparison among women really skeeves me out and I've never wanted any part of it.

Also, I've always assumed that in any competition, I would be the loser. Yes, I have a self esteem issue. Or ten.

I've never been anti-engagement rings, though. I've always thought it was one of several very nice ways to symbolize a commitment (I've had friends who have chosen other forms of symbolism including necklaces, bicycles, tattoos, and savings accounts). What's more, I wanted an engagement ring. While I completely appreciate the sentiment behind forgoing one or choosing a different symbol, I liked engagement rings because they seemed to require the least amount of explanation or conversation. Sometimes being unconventional just feels like too much work for an introvert.

I think I mentioned before that I did not pick out my engagement ring. We had minimal discussion about rings other than me letting him know that I would be plenty pleased with whatever he chose. I did ponder for awhile (though I didn't discuss this with him) that it might be nice to have a non-diamond or colored diamond ring. I thought that might help protect me from being compared to others. If it was somewhat non-traditional, i figured, it would take comparisons off the table.

What I never even considered, however, was that I could possibly end up with a ring that other people noticed. And that my ring could be used to make other people feel bad. This was not a scenario I was prepared for.

The evening SNP proposed to me is still kind of a blur. I remember my brain going blank when I heard him talking to my dad. And my heart racing as he got down on one knee. And my head spinning as he pulled out a ring box. All that right there... that was shocking enough. He planned this? He actually went shopping, on his own, and bought a ring? And I didn't even know about it? And then when he popped open the box, well, I'm ashamed to say that my first thought was did he buy this ring for a past girlfriend? Is he recycling a ring?! Why on earth would that thought occur to me? Because I never, ever, in all my life would have expected such a nice ring. Period. And so my brain responded by telling me that couldn't have possibly been chosen for you. Ack. It actually makes me tear up to write this.

Once I got past the shock and accepted the fact that, yes, he chose this ring for me, I immediately fell in love with it. It's pretty. It sparkles. It makes my car light up like a disco in the late afternoon. Yes, I am a cliché.

But then came the ugly stuff. There are several very young women who work in my office. One is also engaged. The other two are, to put it bluntly, very insecure "mean girls". They hate the other girl and make it known. It's all very high school and I had mostly escaped it since I'm on the road often and when I'm not, I hide behind my office door. Anyway, when the two mean girls saw the ring on my finger, they made a huge fuss. A really huge, uncomfortable fuss over how big my ring is and how lucky I am. It went on and on over several days. I hated it. But I didn't realize exactly what was happening until the other engaged girl nearly broke down in tears in my office one day. It turns out that the mean girls' fussing over my ring was a direct attempt to shame her over the size of her ring. The mean girls had even gone as far as to tell her that they would have never accepted such a "small" diamond from their boyfriends.

I wanted to scream. And I wanted to take my ring off and never wear it again. That's exactly the kind of bullsh*t that I wanted to avoid.

So, yeah, engagement rings. Complicated.

I am still absolutely in love with my ring. Mostly because of how it came to me. Unsolicited.* But once I am married, I am pretty sure I will only wear the engagement ring on special occasions. I'll stick with my very simple wedding band for day to day use.


* That part of my psychological makeup will likely be explored in another blog post.