I wore a ring on the third finger of my left hand the day I graduated. I’m not engaged. I’ve never been engaged. My finger didn’t seem to mind, but I did get a questioning look or two.
I like to wear rings sometimes. Not all the time, just when I’m feeling fancy or want to wear extra jewelry or have some special event to attend. I wear rings on whichever finger the rings fit best because I can’t afford to go have all of my rings re-sized to fit particular fingers. That means some of my rings go on the left ring finger.*
Society seems to dictate that the “ring finger” on a woman’s left hand must be reserved for her engagement ring. Here’s the thing: I dislike that idiotic tradition about as much as I dislike the tradition of the male in a heterosexual relationship asking a woman’s father for permission to propose** or the tradition that a man has to be the one to “pop the question.”
I’ll wear my rings on whichever fingers I please without regard to superstitions or silly societal rules. Apparently there’s a superstition that if a woman puts a ring on the ring finger of her left hand, no man will ever put a ring there. It’s clearly a stupid superstition, but that’s just fine because you know what? I don’t intend to wait for someone else to buy me diamonds. If I want them, I’ll buy some when I earn enough money. If I want a diamond ring, that’s what I’ll get. If I want to wear it on my left hand, that’s what I’ll do. And if I do get engaged? No matter which of us proposes, I fully intend to contribute to the cost of the rings (if I’m even traditional enough to wear a ring).
So next time you see a ring on my left hand, whether it’s a sapphire, cut glass, a fake gem, or an actual diamond, don’t give me that questioning look. If you matter to me, you won’t have to ask me if I’m engaged – you’ll probably know whether you want to or not.
*All my fingers are different sizes. My right hand and fingers are larger than my left hand and fingers. If something fits my right ring finger, it’s too big for the left.
**This should bother more people. Women are not property. It’s not quaint or cute, it’s gross. It’s one thing to ask for a blessing, I guess. Permission, though? It’s like when a father gives his daughter away at her wedding… I’ll stop, but think about it, okay?