Over the last few months, it was becoming increasingly more difficult for me to take my wedding ring off. Yes, eleven years of marriage and Gail’s good cooking have resulted in some extra poundage. Combine that with a slowing metabolism and fewer opportunities to exercise, it’s no wonder I can’t fit into size 28 pants anymore.
During our recent roller hockey season, I was taking nearly 5 minutes to get my ring off. No matter what combo of soap, hot water, yanking and twisting I used, it was always a painful experience that tested my resolve and tolerance for pain. Noticing that my ring finger on my left hand was actually getting deformed from the now under-sized ring, I decided that enough was enough and I stopped wearing it at the end of July. Gail was initially okay with it; it’s not like she was (or ever has been) worried about some stranger making advances towards me because I was without ring.
I didn’t wear my ring to Hawaii in early August, and we didn’t really make the ring a priority when we returned. However, I was at a function on Friday night where I met quite a few new people. And in sharing with them that I was married with three children, I noticed that a few of them glanced at my left hand at my bare fingers. I hardly think they were checking me out, but I do think that it’s a natural thing to do when meeting someone new. Or maybe it’s just a natural thing for ME to do when meeting someone new. I feel it’s a natural conversation topic if someone is engaged or married.
Using the same rationale, I realized that I needed to start wearing my ring again so others didn’t think that I was single and checking THEM out. Gail soundly agreed with this realization.
So the next day Gail and I went to the very same jewellery store where we bought my wedding ring 11 years ago. In fact, Gail both impressed me and surprised me by producing the original sales receipt from June 2000. After talking about some pricing options, it came time to measure my finger.
She measured my ring and answered “You were a 7.”
“Okay, cool” I replied, not really knowing what that meant.
She handed me the ring of sizing rings and I first tried to slip on an 8. It didn’t even go past my knuckle.
Next was an 8.5. I barely got it on, and in trying to get it off my knuckle cracked somewhat loudly.
A tad embarrassed, I asked Gail “Did you hear that, hon?”
“We all heard it” said the employee.
Next was a size 9. This one slipped on easily and took a bit of work to slip off. The 9.5 was too loose so after a bit of back-and-forth we decided to make the new ring a 9.25. While we were completing the paperwork I asked the employee what the average ring size and size increase is.
“Well, most Asian men wear a size 7 or 8” she said.
“Oh good…so I was average to start off at least” I chuckled, mostly to myself.
“And the average increase in ring size is 1 or 1.5 sizes” she continued.
Using my uncanny math skills, I quickly computed that my ring size increase is 2.25. Not the best thing to be above average in.
We thanked the employees and left the store, likely to return in a week or so. When I put on my new old ring, Gail will be happy that I’ll once again be marked as “taken.”
And I’ll be thankful…as I always am…that God has blessed me with such a loving, forgiving, and understanding wife.