Ring-a-Ling

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #7: 

Jewelry

I picked out my own wedding ring. It wasn't really any surprise to anyone that Scotty and I were going to get married. We were pretty much engaged to be engaged for four years. I had our appointment scheduled at the temple before I had the ring on my finger (you have to be ahead of the game if you're getting married the week after the semester ends). I just had this rule that Scotty couldn't formally propose to me until I was 19, so with our wedding date already scheduled, we waited to make things “official.” I believed that I would peak in maturity and be ready for marriage after that special occasion. Scotty met my demands and proposed three days after my birthday. 

Since I picked out my ring while I was still 18, I definitely took a status symbol approach to it. The sample ring I chose was a karat, but we had a half-karat budget. When I saw how tiny my diamond was (in comparison to what I envisioned based on the ring I'd picked out at the store) I was pretty disappointed. If only I'd waited until I was 19 to choose my ring... I'm sure I would have been far more grateful and practical in my expectations. 

I ended up only wearing my ring for the first year of our marriage. I got fat fingers quickly. To this day, I've never done anything about it. It turns out, the farther I've gotten from age 19, the less a status symbol the ring has become.  For the last 19 years (apparently 19 is the number of the day), I haven't worn a wedding ring, and wouldn’t you know! No one has even hit on me!

Every year when our anniversary rolls around, I think I'm going to get my ring sized for my anniversary. And I never do. It's on my perpetual to do list. 

Oh, but Scotty? He has to wear a ring. I'm not saying all the ladies are gonna be up in his grill if he takes it off, but I'm also not going to take any chances. I have staked my claim!