My ring finger is nude and it feels weird. Oh wait, maybe I should start at the beginning. Way back when I was but a wee little lass in love. Eric had just nervously proposed and I, of course, accepted. The ring was one we had looked at months earlier, but I had thought it was just something we'd done to kill time one afternoon. I didn't realize that Eric had made a note of it and saved up to buy it. The ring is perfect, suits us 100%, antiqued gold and a small beautiful diamond.
Anyway, back to the proposal. I put the ring on my finger, on the wrong hand. Who knew? I'd never been engaged before and I hadn't given much thought to which hand wore the jewelry. I went to show off the ring and my mom quickly and quietly corrected my mistake.
The next morning I woke up and before I even opened my eyes I used my thumb to feel that ring, to make sure it was still in place. So began a years long practice of unconsciously checking my finger, making sure the ring was still there.
A few years ago I noticed the ring was getting loose. Then I got pregnant and I figured my hands would swell-problem solved, no dice. My ring continued to get more loose. I think maybe my youth is leaving me hands first and they are withering, just a theory at this point.
When I was on a walk last summer I made a wide gesture (a habit I certainly picked up from Eric) and my ring went flying, right along with the wedding band. I recovered them both and decided that they needed to move up to my middle finger until I could get them re-sized.
Last fall my aunt asked if I wore my bands on my middle finger for some special reason. I wish I had a cool reason, but I didn't. Time continued to pass and still I didn't get the rings re-sized.
Finally on Saturday we were walking downtown at CRAZY DAYS and I spotted a jewelry shop. I walked in with my crew to find an empty shop.
"I'll be right down," called a feeble elderly voice.
Soon a white haired woman climbed down a step ladder. She had jewelers glasses on over her eye glasses, making her eyes rather enormous. I would also like to mention that she had a pit bull named Samantha.
I left my rings in her care, waiting to be adjusted by two full sizes. So now I am obsessively checking my fingers for rings and there is nothing there, weird for sure. I can't wait to put the rings back home on my finger, where they belong.
* For the record this blog post was originally called naked finger and Eric thought that was creepy, but he was OK with the more artistic use of the word nude.