Let Freedom Ring

For a number of years now, I’ve debated as to whether or not I should embrace the right-hand diamond ring thing/phase/fad/brilliant marketing scheme.

I’m a fan of rings, I’m a fan of diamonds, and since no dude is rushing out anytime soon to purchase some bling for my ring finger, sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

I’ve worn a ring most of the time since junior high, although it’s usually been one that had a home on my left hand middle finger. A few years ago, I remember driving through Huntington Beach by myself. I was simply out driving around on the weekend, enjoying some tunes and planning nothing more for the afternoon than to maybe stop for a coffee. Or not. The afternoon was mine, and I was minding my own business. This truck full of dudes pulled up along the driver’s side of my car at a red light, and I probably had my hand up to block glare from the setting sun. I was wearing a simple silver band that had a gentle bend to it, and when the dudes waved at me and I waved back, I’ll never forget how mortified they were that a woman who was “taken” would actually reciprocate.

Clearly I wasn’t married, and clearly they were clueless as to which finger a wedding or engagement ring belonged on. Mine was on my middle, and it looked nothing like either an engagement or wedding ring.

Tools.

At any rate, the right-hand diamond ring is one that, according to a quick Google search, can be defined as a diamond ring that a woman can buy for herself, and which signifies her confidence and sense of style.

Works for me.

Today — admittedly on a whim — I bought my first right-hand ring. I say “first” because after seeing how this thing sparkles, I’m pretty sure it won’t be my last. It’s wide, whimsical, has flowing lines that intertwine and it’s dotted with joyous diamonds.

Apparently it used to be considered inappropriate for a single woman to wear a diamond ring, but as times evolved, the thinking shifted so that it became OK for a gal to reflect her personality and personal flair. I like to think that the ring which — if you squint — looks sorta like a sparkly, jumbled, twisty mess, is a darned good reflection of me: occasionally an aimless wanderer, but usually prone to staying within the lines. Good times.

This afternoon’s simple post is about me being thankful for the shift in jewelry meaning and etiquette, and for a gal’s freedom and ability — whether she’s single or not — to show what she’s all about. She might be free, flying solo and single — or content to be partnered up but still free to purchase a little ice here and there if it makes her happy.

Either way, now that I’ve finally snagged one of my own, I think this right-hand ring thing is right on.

Rock on, ladies.

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