I never really thought it was a big deal that my husband and I don’t wear wedding rings.

It wasn’t a trendy choice we made. We didn’t get matching ring finger tattoos.

It wasn’t a conversation that we sat down and had.

It just happened.

We don’t wear wedding rings.

I didn’t put thought into it like I did when I kept my maiden name.  I thought about that decision but, it was still an easy one to make.

In our 3rd year of marriage, Zed lost his wedding ring. He was sick about it. He volunteered to sit in the dunk tank at the Canadian Cancer Society’s Relay for Life, after his shift and once he returned home, it was gone.  His thought was that it fell off in the freezing cold dunk tank. Sort of like the Shrinkage episode on Seinfeld.

He went back to look for it. The dunk tank had now been drained.  The grass was searched. He never found his wedding ring.

For me, the story is a bit different.

I loved my engagement ring and wedding band.

Compared to my friends I always knew my engagement ring was small. Heck even compared to my Mom and my Mother in law my engagement ring was small, and I would be lying if I said I never quietly compared it to my friend’s diamonds each time one of them became engaged.  As selfish as that sounds, I loved that ring. It represented everything that we were going through in our lives when Chris proposed.

We had nothing. Our couch was bought for a case of beer. Our table and chairs were bought at a garage sale for $20. Our t.v stand was a shoe rack. And our t.v was 8 inches.

My wedding band was a gift that Chris gave me after our first year of dating. We reused it because as I already said when we were married, we had nothing but, we also had everything.

Those rings represent that.

So why don’t I wear it?

At first, I quit wearing it because it gave me a rash.

Then I quit wearing it during pregnancy due to swelling and weight gain.

Now, I just don’t wear it.

And I never thought it was a big deal.

But, recently someone commented on it.

They weren’t mean, they just observed that we don’t wear wedding rings. But it bugged me. Like, really bugged me. And I have been trying to put my finger on the reason why I am so bothered by it. It doesn’t make us less married. It doesn’t make us less committed to each other. It doesn’t make us less in love or less of a family.

I usually don’t care what people think.

But, this time I do. If I have to wear a wedding ring to show the world that I love my husband, then I want to wear it again.

Does that make sense? Like at all? I am totally struggling with this.

I find this desire absolutely bizarre considering we have gone the last 9 years of our marriage bare fingered.  That after all these years, I need the world to know that I love him and that he loves me.

So, until I get my ring resized or become miraculously unscathed by the deadly ring finger rash, or change my mind and realize how stupid this all really is, this photo will have to do. See this guy? That’s my husband. And I am his wife. Ring or not.