I’m not sure if this is even a thing – or at the very least, a proven thing – but since I’ve started wearing a ring every day, the fair hairs on my ring fingers have got a lot darker. They’ve never been so prominent! I told Oli this the other day and he just burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it. But I’m quite an observant person and I’ve never known my knuckle hair to be so obvious but that could have something to do with the fact that I’ve never spent as much time admiring my left ring finger knuckle quite as much as I do now. Someone will be talking to me at school or church and mid sentence my eyes will wander down to my hands and I’ll be standing there gazing at the bling on my finger. I couldn’t be more smitten with my engagement ring. I never thought it possible to love and treasure an inanimate object as much as I currently do.
I’ve never been much of a jewellery person. I never really wear rings, or necklaces or even bracelets and I don’t even have anything pierced. I wear a watch and that’s about the extent of it. So when it came to an engagement ring, I had no idea what I wanted. But I knew that due to my inexperience in the jewellery department and my fussy nature, I wanted to choose my own ring. It’s something I’m going to wear for the rest of my life, so it needed to be perfect. It needed to feel right. It needed to look right as well. Besides, I’d feel awful and horribly ungrateful if Oli had chosen and bought me a surprise ring that he thought I’d love, only for me to turn around and admit that it wasn’t my cup of tea. So in a roundabout way, I made it very clear that I wanted to chose my own ring whilst in the same breath stating how much I’d love a Pandora ring and how that might be a good option to propose with.
Luckily, Oli knows me very well and completely heard my unsubtle hints and proposed with a gorgeous Pandora ring – which I adore, in fact he couldn’t have chosen a better one, it was the exact one that I would have chosen for myself, a pretty little white daisy – followed by the amazing promise that when we got back from our engagement trip to Paris, we would go and chose a real engagement ring; together.
And that we did. The Sunday after we got back from Paris, we went to our local shopping centre and had a little look in the jewellery shops but nothing really caught my eye. Until we walked into Ernest Jones and stared down at the glass counter.
I had no initial idea of what I wanted, no idea about cut or clarity or clusters or halos or shanks. Not a clue. But as soon as I saw my ring, I gasped a little and couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was sparkling like crazy and looked elegantly modern, yet vintage, all at the same time. It was delicate and graceful and I wanted to try it on like crazy. Only, the price tag was holding me back.
Rings are expensive. I’ve come to the conclusion that anything pertaining to weddings and marital bliss is, rather sadly, extortionate. Oli had a budget, which I insisted on lowering whenever we spoke to a shop assistant, as I felt guilty about the sheer cost of something that will only ever adorn my finger. You can’t drive a ring, you can’t eat it, you can’t live in it, you can’t sit or lie on it. I was so conscious of this. There are far more important and necessary things to buy, as a couple starting out on their life together.
But Oli was insistent and I tried the ring on. And Ernest Jones must have performed some kind of magic spell because as soon as the ring slid onto my finger I felt like I was floating. My eyes began to crease at the corners as a whopping great big smile appeared on my lips and spread rapidly across every part of my face. The ring sparkled in all the right places, the white gold band pristine and like the tiniest mirror as I rotated my hand to get a better look at it. The diamonds were almost too beautiful to behold without being overcome with emotion.
I sat there, in the shop, with this beauty on my finger for a good forty five minutes, weighing up the pros and cons of a ring this pricey, of a spend this big. What would my parents say? Could I let Oli spend his inheritance on this?
But Oli was sure about his budget from the outset, he kept telling me that he wanted me to have a ring I loved, whatever the cost and that the price was fine, it was ok, it was what he was prepared to pay. He wanted to buy this for me. He couldn’t have been more lovely about it.
And so after thinking and thinking again, knowing all along that I wanted this ring so very much, I nodded at him. And he bought it for me. Just like that. With a giant beam on his face and an equally large one on mine. We’d found the ring and we both adored it.
Admittedly, I went back to Ernest Jones (about 10 times) to get the size changed as the initial one was too big. But now it fits perfectly and I seriously cannot stop admiring my hands at the most inopportune times. Because it’s beautiful, because it’s mine. But most of its beauty, comes not from its perfect, timeless and gorgeous appearance but from the meaning behind it.
This ring symbolises, embodies and represents the fact that I am betrothed, that I am fortunate, blessed enough to be marrying the man of my dreams. The man who I believe was made for me, the man who loves me through my flaws, my PMT related mood swings and my silly insecurities, of which there are many. This ring is beautiful because it’s very presence on my left hand means that my life, all my remaining days are going to be spent with him, in marriage, loving him, looking after him, living and doing life with him, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and to me, that is more beautiful than any amount of diamonds. In fact it’s the most beautiful and wonderful gift that God has given me.
When the sunlight catches the diamonds and I gaze down at my hand, I smile, not only because it’s so sparkly and gorgeous but because my life will be forever entwined, forever looped together, with the most amazing, kind, funny, warmhearted, affectionate and generous man. My very best friend. The one whom I cannot wait to call, my Husband.