A cat by any other name

All that glitters


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Meow at me

I'm not a big jewelry fan. Some woman may be thrilled with gold and gemstones, but I've never been one of them. Somehow I missed out on that trait that most - if not all - of my female friends have. I've got my ears double-pierced, yet at least 80 percent of the time I forget to wear earrings, even though I've got lots of adorable pairs to choose from. I wear an anklet mainly because I put it on a year or so ago and it's one of those things I almost never have to take off. I have a necklace I wear some of the time because I bought it for myself one Valentine's day. And I wear a ring that I designed myself - based off a bit of costume jewelry I found years ago. It's a cat's face (yes, I'm addicted. This should not surprise you by now) with sapphires for eyes, while the metal is carefully scored with ears and nose and whiskers. I love it. It might not be everyone's idea of exquisite, but frankly, if that were what I cared about, I'd never be caught dead in some of the earrings I wear anyway. Besides which, ring, necklace, and anklet have all been part of my plan to get myself to wear more jewelry - a plan which, up til now, has had only partial success.

And as for sparkles and glitter? I know that popular sentiment claims that diamonds are a girl's best friend, and I certainly have known women who uphold that myth, but I've never been all that drawn to them. Besides which, I had that whole single thing going on for quite a number of years - a state of being that seemed to baffle some of my female acquaintances who were of the 'no woman can possibly be happy without a man or two to validate them' mind set. And despite the best intentions of the aforementioned female acquaintances, who would occasionally toss out mentions of eligible bachelors - as if by virtue of their possessing a lofty degree or some other equally yuppie definition of 'success' I would suddenly change my tune and 'need' a man - my ring finger remained blessedly bare; a fate which I was perfectly happy to sustain. Long ago I made the decision that any jewelry I wore would be jewelry I bought for myself - after all, who knows my taste better than I?

Ah, but fate has such a wonderful sense of humor. Recently another ring was added to the small collection of jewelry I wear - a ring that not only has a diamond, but was also something I had no say in picking out. And it's been ironic, at least to me, that it's this ring that is the most beautiful, and means more to me, than any of the pieces I've purchased or had made for myself. But what makes this ring so special is not the stone or the setting, because frankly, it would have just as much meaning if it had been crafted from a bit of glass and a twisty tie. It's the sentiment behind it. It's the fact that the ring has a history - that it was the ring that Richard's father gave to his mother when he proposed to her, and that the diamond has been in the family even longer than that.

I may have to actively remind myself every day to put on the rest of my jewelry, and it's looking highly likely that despite my best intentions, I may never get the hang of this whole 'girl' thing of wearing lots of baubles and bangles. But this piece has been blissfully easy to remember every morning. After all, this ring came from the man with whom I'm going to spend the rest of my life. What better reason to remember could there be than that?