I am not a Gollumn- but it when it came to thinking about a ring, I became just as bad as any of the creatures in Lord of the Rings. It was an instant case of my precious.
When I decided to ask my boyfriend to marry me, I did what any man would have done- I went out and got a ring. I found one that fit within my ethical framework. It hand crafted by a local craftsperson from metals I could stand behind. It was beautiful, practical, symbolic, and it wasn't going to cost us our first born child. I did what I would have wanted someone to do for me- at least that's what I thought.
Once I my proposal was accepted, I did what any bride to be would have done- I began to tell people about our engagement. I told everyone I could think of that we were engaged, and there first question was always- can I see the ring?
Now- if you recall, I proposed. I got him the ring. So every time I was confronted with the question- can I see your ring- I had the same obvious answer- I don't have one. For the first week I felt fine about my bare naked ring finger. I was a feminist- and I was standing up for female proposers everywhere- why did I need a ring?, I thought.
But as Christmas started to loom, and the onslaught of holiday family pressure mounted- I began to panic.
Questions like What will the relatives think? and Will they judge my new fiance because he didn't get me a ring? began to ring in my ears. And so, with a week to spare before Christmas eve, my partner (probably sensitive to my distress) handed me his mother's sweet-16 ring, which, mind you, had a very small, but noticeable diamond. In giving me this ring, it was not a gesture of- this ring is going to be your wedding ring, it was more of a- wear this and see if you like it- or a- I had this in a drawer and thought you might want to wear it type of gesture.
And- I was grateful. I slipped the slightly too large ring with the slightly too small diamond onto my finger. Relief was noticeable. So was the fact that the ring was too big. So, in order to beef up the amount of metal on my finger, and to keep his mothers ring from slipping from my slender fingers, I added my grandmother's gold wedding band for good measure. With a sweet sixteen ring from the 60s and a wedding band from another wedding on my ring finger, I marched into the Christmas cocktail parties.
However, my input subsitutionism only made matters worse. I was stuck explaining the small diamond and the wedding band from another wedding (as if a small diamond or a grandmother's wedding band were something to be ashamed of). And, to make matters worse, people who hadn't seen me, assumed I was already married, as I was double banded. At every turn I was confronted with the social expectation of what I should have on my finger- and from experience, De Beers has done an excellent job of convincing every American, that if you don't have a big new diamond on your finger- your engagement should be questioned.
After enough comments and enough cocktail parties, even I began to question myself. Thoughts like- I should just go out and buy myself a diamond- began to appear in my head. By the end of the holidays, I was compulsively googling diamond rings and trying to figure out how I could justify the purchase of such a rock to the ethical part of my brain.
Come the New Year, I was so exhausted by the whole ring diamond thought train, I was ready to give up. When a thought occurred to me. Why don't I just ask my new fiance to get me a ring?
Honestly, since I was the one who proposed, I thought I wouldn't get a ring until we were married. I mean, the guy doesn't ever get a ring until the wedding. However, when I proposed I clearly had NO idea of how deep the cultural expectations of engagement rings are in this country.
When I finally told my fiance that I couldn't take it anymore, and asked if he could buy me a ring- he laughed. I think he jokingly said something like you were such a feminist, so hardcore, and now look at you before hugging me and saying of course. My dry reply was probably something like being a feminist means be able to determine when you want to acquiesce to cultural norms.
So he got me a ring. We went back to the house of the ring maker who made his ring, and now I have a matching band, made out of the same piece of metal- and when I slipped it on, I knew I had made the right choice.
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