Lately I have felt quite put-upon and under-appreciated, and sulky, and pissy. On the pissiest, sulkiest day at work I was in the lunch checkout and the cashier said to a woman in line: "What a pretty ring."
"Thanks," she said, "I just bought it."
My head snapped up. "Well, now I have to see this ring," I demanded, because I have been thinking about rings. She flashed a four carat solitaire.
I thought, "Women with rings that big are not standing in line at the TeddyJ cafeteria. Fake." Then I thought, "Hey - I could buy a fake ring for myself. I have all these fingers open now."
I could never buy myself a real ring. In the past I have seen women discuss ruby or emerald rings they are interested in, and then they get on line and the group weighs in on the gems and colors, and how pretty, then eventually the ring is purchased and admired but eventually forgotten. In all this I am a bystander, clamping my mouth shut, thinking, "WHO SPENDS 499 DOLLARS ON A RING?"
And now I know. People who feel five times pissier and sulkier and more put-upon than I. I only felt sufficiently put-upon to spend $98 at Walmart on a 10-karat gold modest CZ ring, plus a snug gold-plate ring that clamps my great grandmother’s wee engagement ring on my pinkie. So now I wear a ring from everyone who ever loved me, including me, plus a great-grandmother.
And my God, the satisfaction I feel is deep, people. Everything has been professionally cleaned, I have found the ideal finger/ring configuration, and it all has meaning - even if the one ring I bought myself only means, "I am a big pouty put-upon baby."
Plus, now I know what women who wear multiple rings are saying to the world. I will keep my eye out for ladies with big stacks of bling and I will be extra-appreciative.