Throw Your Diamonds in the Air.
Furrowed brow: check. Angry demeanor: check. Anxiety due to over thinking a life decision I can't figure out the right answer to: check. People not wanting to sit next to me on the subway cause I look like a ghost-faced killah!: check. And then something happened. The anger, tension and seriousness I was shouldering all melted away when the sparkly magnificence caught my eye. And a peace that I hadn't experienced in many hours washed over my anxiety-ridden system. A sort of, Cinderella-glass-slipper effect took over. There, delicately shining upon my fellow transit supporters hand was something I never in a million years thought I wanted, and was now causing me to feel an effervescent calm. It was a Big, Fat Diamond wedding ring. Envy: check. Longing: check. Confusion?!!: check.
Was I not the girl who, when Beyonce stepped out for the first time with her ginormous bedazzler from Jay, totally launched into a righteous vomit about how the 5-million dollars sitting upon her pretty finger could have fed and housed millions in devastated countries. How could she even WANT to rock something so over-the-top, obnoxious and self-indulgent? And mind you, what the hell were all these women out there doing in the first place longing for this hunk of stone when there were clearly more important things to be paid attention, and monetary homage, to. And yet there I sat, looking at my own dainty little fingers, imagining a Nice Big Rock glimmering in the New York sunlight, amongst the admiration of my peers.
To be honest, I grow more confused as the days pass and I notice my eyes seem to have a new built-in radar detecting every massive wedding ring on women's fingers all over the city. I've always been the one out of my girlfriends to notice, within a literal 0.5 seconds, whether or not a man is rocking a wedding band (for girl code ethics of course), but this slight obsession with a woman's ring; it's size and whether or not I'd have designed it differently, is fairly new to me. I've always prided myself on being the girl who didn't believe in marriage so much. As long as I had a partner, I'd be perfectly content following in the steps of Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, with a union defying actual marriage vows. And when it came to the ring, if I actually did want to wear one, I'd already decided it would be extremely thin, gold and unassuming. A ring that I could keep on while doing laundry, feeding the kids and practicing downward dog. Practical. Humble. Simple. I didn't need some gaudy diamond from my man to prove how much he loved me, or how much money we had. Right? I think so. But why then, am I having all these blissed-out, slightly creepy feelings when I see big-ass diamonds? Is NYC wearing off on me in a sort of Breakfast at Tiffany's type of way? And has the girl who went to a hippie college in Boulder been replaced by a bling-motivated diva?!
Ok, I'm being extreme here. But, straight up, I want me a diamond ring. A big one. And I'm realizing the reasons why run a lot deeper than I initially expected when I was reprimanding myself for my current diamond devotion/devastation. When Jay presented B with her wedding ring, it was testament that he loved, valued and cherished her enough as his woman to spend a large portion of his yearly salary on a piece of jewelry representing his commitment and love for her. This was a ring that she was proudly going to show to the world that symbolized a partnership with a man she had chosen to invest her heart in. Now that's something.
I'd say that choosing to share your life with a person is among one of the biggest events of our lives, and I now see there's absolutely nothing wrong with celebrating that union via diamonds and gold. That said, I also realize there are plenty of assholes out there putting million dollar rings on ladies fingers and then abusing them, cheating on them and helping them destroy their own lives. As are there women who are expecting diamonds, and only diamonds, to prove to the world and themselves, they are worthy of something. But let's be honest, Money ain't anything if it lacks a foundation based in Love, both from another and for yourself.
So what if you do have money and love? Then sign a sister up for having her cake and eating it too! I feel like the more I grow into the woman I truly want to be in this world, the more I seem to be drawn to diamond rings. My theory is that as I continue to embody the type of woman I've always admired; loving, successful, able to take care of herself and others and is on top of her game, I realize more deeply what kind of mate I need and want in my life. And I expect that person to embody all of the attributes I just listed above for my self-standards. So perhaps the ultimate goal for me is working towards being able to afford my own diamond ring, J.Lo-style, and then not being so hard-pressed expecting another to gift me with one. Or, if I'm truly living up to my own personal potential, and still can't afford a stunning sparkler, I definitely have enough sense now to see the value in receiving one rather than rejecting it so harshly and negatively. What exactly was I rejecting that harshly in myself when I used to feel superior to those decked out in jewels, thinking I somehow was a more virtuous human being by buying organic and not sporting a little bling? The fact that I can even buy organic and shop at Whole Foods already has me in a privileged category so why not add some diamonds to the mix?! Oh god, did I really just say that. But seriously...
There is something very ancient, ritualistic and territorial to "putting a ring on it", especially one that comes from a percentage of a person's salary as well as their heart. Staking your claim, figuratively pissing on your turf so to speak, is definitely some cave man shit though I'm pretty sure back then it wasn't diamond rings as much as dragging a buffalo carcass home for the family. So whatever this new diamond-spotting "hobby" is that's growing in me, I'm going to go with the path of least resistance and just enjoy admiring a stone I've long looked down upon, thus embracing my own right as a female to desire the finer things in life, armed with the knowledge I am still fabulous with or without diamonds. But it's definitely okay to have them as friends.