I tend to be a Bermuda triangle for jewelry. They just disappear on me. I’m not the neatest person on earth, and am terribly absent-minded—a horrible combination, because they add up to me losing or misplacing things.
Earrings are the worst because they come in pairs. One will inevitably fall off my ear and won’t be seen again, and I’ll be stuck with a solo earring, which will join the ranks of the sad, widowed little trinkets in a sad little box—tragic. Anything with dainty little chains will break just when I’m walking in a park or in the dark, and I’ll be oblivious to the loss until days, or even months later.
That’s how I started to like rings. There’s less chance of me losing them. They’re solid and sturdy, and almost always in my line of vision. And since rings fit snugly right on the base of the finger, they have a long and slow way to travel before they slip from my grasp. I then gravitated towards the big, chunky, odd shaped rings because there are a lot of them that don’t cost a fortune, so I feel less scared and more free to wear them, and if ever they do slip off my finger, they’re easier to find and they never roll too far.
But I LOVE big rings because they are fabulous. They are bold, jazzy, and sassy, and they don’t discriminate against thumbs and forefingers. Ho-hum get-ups get some oomph, and spirits get a boost. Chunky rings make the unconscious hand gesture all that more eloquent—they make statements that simply must be heard. And they bring me such pleasure because they are beautiful to look at–lovely little sculptures that go where I go, so I can look at them whenever I want.
I do still lose rings. And I will feel sad and disappointed when it happens, because I do get attached to them while I have them, though they don’t have carats and karats. I just console myself by thinking that there will be spaces in my heart and in my hand waiting to be filled again, hopefully with one of these…
Metals and Stones