© 2007 Leighann Lord
I wear two wedding rings; actually three. I wear my ring on my ring finger, my mother’s on my left index finger and my maternal grandmother’s on my right ring finger. The latter is in keeping with the Greek tradition of my husband's family. I’m very married.
I wear two wedding rings; actually three. I wear my ring on my ring finger, my mother’s on my left index finger and my maternal grandmother’s on my right ring finger. The latter is in keeping with the Greek tradition of my husband's family. I’m very married.
I periodically have my wedding rings cleaned by my local jeweler. They usually give my rings a quick steam cleaning while I wait. This time they were busy, so they asked me to leave the rings and come back in an hour.
I've worn my wedding rings for six years; seven if you count the engagement. Leaving the store ringless, I had the giddy sensation of being single again. I imagined hordes of men noticing my unadorned ring finger and seizing their opportunity to holler at me; jockeying for position to catch my eye.
None off this happened, at least not more than usual, but it was fun to imagine for the first five minutes. To be honest, walking around without my wedding rings felt odd. My fingers seemed naked and exposed. I self consciously touched the empty spaces. I’m such a wuss. I was pseudo single for 60 minutes and hated it.
Tattooed wedding rings? I don’t know. I’m a bit of a shallow traditionalist. I think if a woman is willing to make the life long commitment of marriage, she should be bejeweled.
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