A make-up person? Yes. A clothes-coming-out-of-your-ears person? Sure. A more-than-a-centipede-can-handle shoe person? Hell, yes! I never, however, considered myself a ring person. Never cared for them, furthermore, at one point I even worried about the possibility of wearing a wedding ring.
When I was a child, I had a lovely tiny gold solitary ring with a blue sapphire. I remember crying so much when the stone fell, and my mum got it replaced with the dinkiest ruby ever. I also had a little pearl ring. I quickly grew out of them and had to have the little ruby ring broken in order to remove it from my finger.
On my 13th birthday, I was given a diamond solitary ring (not a massive rock – small, but with amazing clarity, colour and cut). I also grew out of that, after having it resized once, I had to get it cut out of me! Yes, it seems that I tend to hang on to things, until someone physically removes them from me – but that’s another issue altogether!
And I never fussed over rings, maybe because I got traumatised by wearing a “commitment” ring for 3 years from my very first boyfriend, with our names engraved and all – such an old fashioned thing that has nothing to do with the person I am; it haunts me to this day – I have bad taste shivers to the day when I think of it!
In the past years, I bought only a couple rings, discreet sets of 3 with flowers mainly. In the last couple months, however, I have been totally crazy for them – maybe because the current fashion dictates they come big, bold and bright (and there is virtually nothing like that I don’t love), maybe I just decided my fingers need adorning – and I have amassed a little collection in a very short period of time.
The funny thing is, one day, when I failed to put a ring on, I felt kinda naked on the DLR on my way to work. Could the rings be my new earrings? Time will tell!