I woke up this morning to the terrifying reality that the worst had come true: My wedding ring didn't fit. Okay, it fit, in that I could put it on and then take it off again without use of either butter or hacksaw, but it wasn't terribly comfortable, and my finger started to turn this concerning shade of darker pink.
I have to explain it. I have to say that I slept on that hand wrong and now it's too hot or swollen, and that after a weekend long spent Christmas play-ing, my body needs a nap to return to normal, but I know the truth. And the truth is, I'm gaining weight and my wedding ring doesn't fit.
Although I would like to say that my current weight of 162 (and rising... so fast you can actually SEE it happen) is no where near the 180lbs I was at in early marriage days, when I was still comfortably wearing my wedding ring every day. That's just a complaint I have.
So here's what happens now. Over the next month or so, I'll be able to wear my rings occassionally, depending on my relative oompa loompa-ness. And then I'll be done with it completely, or at least until the baby is out and I've lost enough weight to appease my symbol of commitment and fidelity.
In the meantime comes the bad part. Because in the meantime, come the Looks. If you've ever been in this position (pregnant enough that it's no longer a question as to whether or not you've just put on some tummy weight, and too thick to wear YOUR wedding ring), you are probably also well acquainted with the Looks. The Looks always start at your face, because people still generally try to be polite. From there, they drift to your bulging middle, and quickly (but not discretely, no matter what the Looker thinks) to your left hand. If the Look was more pointed, you might even be able to explain yourself, but because the Looker doesn't mean to outwardly offend, but merely to inwardly judge your single-yet-knocked-up status, you'll never have the opportunity.
I know all about the Look, because I've gotten it, dozens of times. Also, because I used to, in fact, BE a Looker. I have seen that naked finger and tsked to myself. How unfortunate for her, to be in such a position alone.
I can tell you all though, that I don't Look anymore. I know now that no ring doesn't mean no husband. Sometimes, well, it just means you're fat.
Merry 13 days before Christmas everyone!!
Stories and gripings about exercise, dieting, life, and what it's been like learning to leave the love handles behind.
I was a looker before I was "in this condition". Still am, actually. I went a bought myself a new wedding band. It's not because mine didn't fit, they fit beautifully, and they were beautiful. Stunning.
ReplyDeleteAnd then they were stolen. So I couldn't bring myself to buy a new ring that was pretty, but I did buy myself a plain-jane white gold band... because I don't care if people think I have no taste, but I don't want them to think I'm single...or too bloated to wear my wedding rings.