Rings, or the lack of a ring, symbolize the different stages of a woman's life
It was the end of a long, frustrating day. My fiance and I had trooped in and out of several jewelry stores looking at uninspired traditional wedding sets. On our way to the car, I saw it in the window of a small, unassuming store, the perfect wedding ring for me. It was two-tone with a large open basket weave design, a classy statement piece that was meant to stand on its own without a boring diamond to detract from it.
As the wedding date grew nearer, I began to second-guess myself. A lifetime with him seemed more like a sentence than a promise. But it was ‘too late’ - everything was arranged and paid for - others had put a lot of thought, money, and time into making it a perfect day. I convinced myself I just had the proverbial cold feet and went through with the wedding.
The ring felt uncomfortable. My sister-in-law said in a few weeks, I would get used to it and not even realize it was there. She was right - I became oblivious to the ring, and it became a part of me, a part devoid of emotion but a part nonetheless.
Several years later, the ring once again began to feel uncomfortable. I started taking it off and leaving it on my desk at work. When I took it off to paint or garden, I would leave it on my dresser for a few days. I began to take it off more and more for even the slightest excuse but always eventually put it back on. Until one day, I didn’t.
Feeling that part of my life was completely over, I did what most women do - I got a new haircut on my way to sell my ring. When the jeweler offered me 20, I told him I’d rather throw it in the ocean or flush it down the toilet.
I wanted to cover the pale strip on my finger - proof that I had ever worn the ring. A friend convinced me to leave it alone and watch it gradually fade.
There were some joyous occasions like the first time I felt my bare hand on the escalator’s rails. There were also some very depressing days as I realized the enormity of my losses - I once said my ex was the least important loss. When I would get down, I would gaze at my naked finger - it became the symbol of hope - of the rightness of my decision to give both of us a chance to find happiness. I swore I would never wear another ring on my left hand.
As I adapted to my new life, I became oblivious to the lack of a ring. It became a part of me, this time a happier one but one that was still searching. Then one day, a ring from an estate sale called to me. I knew enough about jewelry to realize estate sale simply meant used and the stone was inexpensive as blue goldstone is actually processed glass There was nothing special about it - It was quite simply a used piece of jewelry. But I loved the gold speckles on the royal-blue stone that fit perfectly into the setting. On impulse, I tried it on. It fit comfortably on my left hand - a new statement piece that said I had finally found myself and was happy with my lot in life.
Kimberly has gone from a well-paid female executive one minute to a desperate woman the next. Thinking her day can't possibly get any worse, she finds out how wrong she is when she goes home. The only way to set things straight is to get even.
