Time for a Raving: BLINGED OUT

So Tuesday came without a review, though I had read two books over the last week, one about Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, and one about Duck Dynasty. I know what you're thinking. How can you read two books that are virtually alike? But for me, it's glomming on a topic. I can't help myself. I was searching for a wide variety of hair secrets apparently.

I'd recommend either/both if you're into either topic...or hair. But I realize they don't really fall in the line of romantic love stories--okay, Kate does, but I assume everyone already knows it. Duck Dynasty, well, it was a lot like hanging out with the deerhunters I usually hang out with this time of year. Boy, are they crazy. Good-hearted, but crazy--which sums up the Duck Dynasty clan.

But I'm in no mood for a book talk. I want a blog talk. I miss the ship, damnit, where I could have talked about this...so you're getting this.

Today, one of the faculty at my work came by and waved her hand, showing off the engagement ring she got over Thanksgiving. Now, she's not my favorite faculty member--due to some personality conflicts between us--but she is by no means one I don't like. (Or is that 'don't don't like'? Whatever. You get the gist.) She's really quite likable (mostly) and she's got a girl next door way about her where you'd root for her. She's funny, pretty, and personable, so about 85% of me thought, "Aww, isn't that sweet? I'm happy for her." Honest to God that's what I thought. But the other 15% floated to the top, like a turd, and reminded me how the likelihood of me getting proposed to is practically nil. And the rock sparkled so prettily and I thought, "Damnit, I want one. Why aren't I special enough to have one? I suck." And for a second I really kinda hated this faculty member.

Before I could sink completely under, my rational brain said, "Um, why are you upset? You are not in competition with this woman. Also, just three days ago, you were super happy to have your house back to yourself because you were going nuts living with someone--and that person was as low key as they come. If you got a rock, this would come with the understanding you would be living with them. Is it still worth it?" and I immediately thought, "OH, hell, no."

So then I was mildly disgusted with myself, instead of being relieved that I no longer desired a ring, because it was the ring I was jealous about and not the relationship, and I resent the very shallow person that made me. I mean, I write romance. I should NOT be obsessed about a blingy ring. I don't even wear jewelry. Where was this coming from?

Then it occurred to me. I only wanted the acknowledgement, the "reward" for being chosen as worthy enough to be someone's bride. I wanted to wave around the ring and go, "See, he chose me! He could have chose any number of other attractive girls, but he chose me. I'm special." I'm special because of a rock that has been arbitrarily assigned value. (And you'll notice I used the description "attractive" and not any other redeeming feature--like kindness or oh, anything else.)

This disgruntled me even further. Seriously, was I going to have to turn in my Feminist card in now? I thought for a second. What if I bought my own ring? Nope. Wouldn't mean the same thing. It only means something coming from some figment man prince. This was ridiculous.

I emailed Terri. Mostly because she can cut these little drama fests by at least 60%. She immediately emailed her own ring bling drama, when I mentioned what I was feeling and how sheepish I was feeling about it. She agreed it's not the ring that proves a woman's worth. A woman's worth is clearly determined by her hair.

I also emailed this to another friend of mine--and she wrote back with such ring bling drama, I immediately emailed and thanked her because no way in hell did I want a blingy ring after reading it. I was going back to the real reason for marriage, to share your life with someone, not for the accessories. My friend also reassured me that the Blingy Ring is a problem for a lot of women. I thought it was only a Jersey Shore problem, but clearly not.

So...confess, do you ever have Bling Ring Distress? Were you secretly and not so secretly thrilled when you have a Bling Ring to show proof of your man's affection for you? Do you have any Bling Ring stories to remind me how grateful I really, really am?