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Wedding Ring? What Wedding Ring?

This month, my husband and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. Although by “celebrate” I mean that we’ll probably forget that it’s our anniversary, and go about our days as usual, possibly remembering as we put the kids to bed.

It’s hard to believe that an entire decade has gone by in the blink of an eye. I look at kids today in their 20’s (that’s right, I refer to them as “kids” now) and I think they look like babies. But 10 years ago, I was one of those babies. And within two years of being married, I was having an actual baby!

So here we are, 10 years later, still happily married. But when I’m out by myself, without my husband at my side or kids in tow, the only thing indicating to others that I’m married is my disheveled appearance and tired eyes, accompanied by the giant smile on my face and the skip in my step (since I’m actually out alone without my husband or kids).

So, I don’t wear my wedding ring. Neither does my husband. He’s actually only worn it a total of two times in the last decade: the day we were married, and the day he lost it in our rock driveway. We found it, but it’s been sitting in the ring holder on my nightstand ever since.

I wore my wedding ring and engagement ring for longer than that, but I can’t exactly pinpoint when I stopped. It seems to me that it was more of a gradual thing. I took them off during my pregnancies, because I was terrified of being one of those women whose fingers swelled so much they had to get their rings cut off.

Then I stopped wearing them in the winter because my fingers get so cold they shrink and the rings spin. In the summer, my fingers and knuckles swell in the heat, so I have the opposite problem. Then, about a year ago, if I wore them for any length of time, I’d end up with an awful, dry, itchy rash around the base of my ring finger. It just wasn’t worth the discomfort.

That’s pretty much when I gave up entirely. Now, my wedding and engagement rings have taken up permanent residence next to my husband’s ring on my nightstand, where they are apparently destined to live together, happily ever after.

The only time I actually do wear them is on any occasion I need to dress “fancy,” which, as I’m sure you might guess, isn’t very often. It doesn’t bother me that my husband never wore his wedding ring, and that now I never wear mine. To me, they are wonderful symbols of our love and devotion to one another. But at the end of the day, they’re just pieces of metal.

We could wear them every day, never taking them off until the day we die. Or they could get lost in a rock driveway, never to be seen again. Either way, it wouldn’t change the fact that we are married, we love each other, and most importantly, that we tolerate each other better than anyone else on the planet could tolerate either one of us. After all, isn’t that what marriage is all about?

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