I don’t even remember how old I was when I started experimenting gold rings.
It started innocently enough with a gold claddagh ring on my ring finger. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen – so small and delicate with a little design etched in the heart. It was my first ‘real’ piece of jewelry and I loved it. Pretty soon that one little ring wasn’t enough. I needed more. I started wearing a ring on the opposite ring finger – amethyst, my birthstone. This satisfied me for a little while, but soon enough, I needed more. I decided I loved opal. It was the most gorgeous stone I had ever seen and I needed an opal ring. The three rings looked fantastic obviously, but I needed a big one to anchor them all, and as luck would have it those big cursive initial rings came into style.
But like an addict, I needed more
I loved my H ring. I wore it on the middle finger of my right hand and was basically the size of half of my finger. By looking at my hand, you could see my life displayed on my fingers. You could tell I was Irish Catholic, born in February and you probably would have guessed my name was Heather (I’m a child of the 80s after all and Heather was a pretty trendy name back then). But like an addict, I needed more. I hate to use the word steal, so I won’t, But I began taking jewelry from family members. My mom, grandmother and aunt Jane all lost rings to my obsession. I wore gold rings on my index, middle and ring fingers on both hands. And when I had more rings than fingers I began to rotate, but not that big beautiful H. That ring had a permanent spot. Soon enough that delicate little claddagh ring wasn’t big enough to compete with its peers, and sadly it was the first to be retired (I miss that ring so much now and would love to be able to wear it again, I still have it but I would need finger Spanx to get it on.)
Plain and simple – I was a ring junkie. If a ring didn’t fit me I would wrap scotch tape around the back of it until it did. I would buy cheap (I mean really cheap, and by “buy” I mean find) gold costume rings and cover them with clear nail polish so the wouldn’t turn my fingers green. I would see a ring on someone else’s finger and become filled with jealousy. I wanted those rings too damn it! I’m not sure when I realized I had gone to far, but eventually I stopped wearing rings on my index fingers. Soon after that I was down to just one or two rings a day and then I quit cold turkey.
The resurfacing of the H
Maybe I’m afraid of reverting to old habits, but I hardly ever wear rings now. I have a couple cocktail rings but nothing I wear in regular rotation…..that is until now. I recently found my H ring when I was cleaning out an old jewelry box, and I’m bringing it back baby! It no longer fits on my right middle finger, but if I hold my breath and shimmy real good, I can get it on my left ring finger. I know at least half you reading this had a ring just like it with your initial on it, and some of you might still have it. If you can find it dust it off, slip it on and wear it proudly. We can be wonder twins if we bump into each other – activate power of ridiculous jewelry. And hopefully this will go better than my attempt to bring back penny loafers last year (which if you’re my Facebook friend, you know I haven’t given up on yet.)