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The Ring: How I stopped worrying and learned to love the bling

It's the first grown up, proper piece of jewellery Yahoo Lifestyle's bride-to-be has ever owned, which explains why she's thrusting her hand in front of your nose

A few years ago when the boyfriend and I were first discussing the possibility of one day getting engaged (see, it really was the least surprising thing) I insisted in complete earnestness that I did not want an engagement ring.

I felt it was outdated and unnecessary. I didn’t need to be marked as ‘taken’ and I’d only accept a wedding ring if he wore one too.

Fast forward to today and you guessed it, I’m wearing an engagement ring. And I’m wondering if this is just the beginning of the cliff-dive of all my feminist principles into the sea of wedding mania.



At the time I read a blog where a couple decided to buy each other cool new pairs of trainers instead of shelling out hundreds/thousands on a shiny trinket, and I thought that sounded quite cool.

But as the likelihood of getting engaged approached, my thoughts turned magpie and after spying a ring I JUST HAD TO HAVE, it took me all of five minutes to decide to ditch the idea of doing without.

But I did say that under no circumstances was he to a) spend a fortune or b) pay for it all himself*. I felt that we should split the cost because it would be the physical symbol of a verbal contract that it was important for us both to have a financial stake in. And not being a celebrity I didn’t want a rock so heavy and pricey that it would impede any everyday activities using my hand.

(*I may still be owing for my half)

[Should you take off your wedding ring for a job interview?]
[Would you go halves for your engagement ring?]

Such a cliché

So now that I’ve been wearing it for a little while, I have a question to ask – how normal is it to stare at your engagement ring for hours thinking how pretty it is? And when do you get over it?

Presumably most future brides have never owned a piece of jewellery so expensive, so shiny or so sentimental, but I have things to get on with (like wedding planning) and staring at my finger isn’t getting them done.

Then there’s the weird desire to thrust your hand into other people’s faces – while trying not to look too desperate/superficial. When people don’t ask to see it you’re disappointed but when people do, and coo, I’ve ended up apologising that it’s ‘not that sparkly’ on occasion because I get self-conscious. Seriously.

There’s also the knowledge in the back of my mind that this is a tradition born of advertising. The reason we want a big shiny diamond ring is because of a clever De Beers marketing campaign that permeated Western culture – that a diamond is forever, like your love. And that all women should expect a big fat one from their fiancé (that should cost at least two months’ salary).  But until the post-war generation, not many women had one at all, because they were an unnecessary frivolity that hard working young people couldn’t afford.


Big or small, a ring seals the deal

Now though, as well as being pretty and a nice thing to look at and wear, an engagement ring – let’s set aside its history – does seal the deal. Particularly for couples that have been together for ages, live together and for whom marriage is presumed. Though I’ve spent years fighting the assumption that getting married would change anything or mean we are any more committed than we were previously, getting engaged does make you feel you’ve gone up a level. And the ring is a symbol of that. You don’t feel like a usurper at family gatherings because you will soon be in-laws and at last people stop asking you when you’re going to get married (except literally as we can’t decide on a date).

My engagement ring isn’t that sparkly (sorry) and it wasn’t crazy expensive. It’s not even a diamond, it’s an emerald. But I do think it’s stunning and I love wearing it.

Which brings me to conundrum two: I am terrified of losing, breaking, bending, splintering or otherwise harming the thing.

I had to have it resized because though it fit my finger, my paranoia needed it to be tight enough to potentially cut off the circulation, just to be sure. When I wash my hands in hot water I have to examine the emerald to make sure I haven’t done it any damage. Every time I knock my hand on something I think 'that’s it', and barely dare look. If I take it off to do something stupid, like cleaning, I have a small heart attack before I remember where I put it.

The ultimate in first world problems?

Perhaps, but to me the ring has grown to feel like a genuine connection to my fiancé, as I hope his wedding ring will be to me. And it serves as a constant reminder that there the anté has been upped in our relationship. And I’ve got a bloody wedding to plan, so I should get on with it.

Missed an installment? Catch up:

Week 4: Wedding planning: Where the heck do you start?!
Week 2: Why big proposals are outdated

Week 1: Why aren't I more excited?