Sunday, November 28, 2010


It has been said that it is bad luck for future relationships, to wear a ring on your left hand ring finger if you are unmarried.

A few months back I was doing some shopping, and a pretty $20 sterling silver solitaire ring caught my eye. "It's silly to buy something that so obviously looks like an engagement ring... it would cause embarrassment; give people the wrong idea" I thought. But then, "I'll buy it just for me, no harm..."

I never intended to wear it on my left hand. I never wear any rings on my left hand, and certainly not on my ring finger - but tonight, all I wanted to do was feel something there.

It feels strange on my left hand - heavy. Weighted with the wishes and expectations that I suppose accompany having a ring on that finger. My finger feels as if it's constricting - rejecting this foreign object.

I like to look at the way it sparkles when it catches the lamps light. A glimmer, like a secret whispered to a new friend. I just wanted to know what it was like. To see a ring on that finger; to feel it. In my reflection in the mirror, I move to sweep the hair from my face with my left hand - I let it linger there, just a while longer. A different woman meets my eye.

As I remove the ring, I wonder why it is I so desperately want to belong to someone. In the history of feminism, the bucking of the patriarchal society and bra burning, why does this one child of the 21st century want nothing more than a sparkly token on her left hand to signify to the world that she belongs to a man?

The moment is gone, a ring is removed - all that's left now is a red indent and the compulsion to itch a specific scratch.

Strange times.

SB xx

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