Last week, I picked up my wedding ring from Fred Meyer Jewelers. No, I’m not getting married again – just having it resized. This was the second time in my life I’d been in that store for ring servicing, though the contrast could not have been more jarring.
Back in 2006, I’d gone in to have my wedding ring cut from my finger. It had fit me just fine when I’d gotten married fourteen years earlier, but time and too much cake had changed all that. As my marriage began to unravel I tried desperately to free my finger from the ring, to no avail. I tried all the tricks in the book, including buttering my ring finger (which made me crave popcorn), dousing spraying it with Windex (hey, it was the magic cure-all in My Big, Fat Greek Wedding), submerging my hand in ice water (which left me muttering, “You’re gonna die an old lady warm in her bed…not here, not this night” to some mystery woman named Rose). I even tried a trick involving dental floss, but nothing worked.
So in a fit of desperation I stopped by the jewelry store. Apparently this sort of thing happens all the time, because the sales associate put me at ease by cracking jokes. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back with the wine,” she said. There was no chablis, but she came back with a tiny saw and clamp, and less than 30 seconds later my finger was liberated. “How does she feel about this?” the lady asked. I simply shrugged my shoulders. That was a moot point, as our fate had already been cast. I just wanted it off. Later that day, I blogged about my experience.
I just had my wedding ring cut off my finger. It’s currently residing in an envelope tucked into my pocket. My ring, that is. Not my finger. That, thankfully, is still attached to my hand.
July 16, 2006. My world may have been crumbling around me, but at least my sense of humor was intact.
This time around was quite different. Instead of being unable to get my ring off my finger, I couldn’t get it to stay on. Which is a good problem to have, until your ring ends up down a drain somewhere. Fortunately, we paid for an extended service agreement, which includes a lifetime of free ring resizing. Bring on the cauliflower! (Or doughnuts, if I want to go the opposite direction). I’m glad to have my ring back now. I was feeling quite naked without it.