Committing to ourselves, again and again

I went crazy and bought myself some baller rings. Plus, all the things I'm bingeing after surgery last week.

On one of our last days in the office before the holidays, I showed off my new rings to coworkers. I had mentioned to the team I had been in the market to buy myself something fancy and had been weighing my options before finally making the purchase the weekend before.

That Tuesday morning, I walked between our desks sticking my hand in front of their faces to make them look at the linked three gold bands with diamonds scattered across one of them. They were stacked on top of a thin white enamel ring encircled with similar looking diamonds and every time I looked down at them, which was a lot, I felt a surge of joy.

“Show Nicole,” our manager said smiling, and I walked over to the desk of our newest teammate and tried to explain why I bought these rings that I was wearing on my left ring finger.

“I’m an independent woman,” I said in a sing-songy voice to my 23-year-old colleague, who gamely nodded and congratulated me on them, as if I’d just bought a house or new car.

Following a promotion and nice pay bump last summer, I wanted to buy something fancy to celebrate. I had told myself that if the new salary reached a certain level, I would treat myself to something special and then proceeded to talk about it for months.

I was all over the place.

When I got the job in Corporate America, no small feat, I bought myself a gold(ish) necklace that had the mythical creature Medusa on its pendant. I had been scrolling the internet and a “What’s your inner goddess?” quiz came up in the feed. I know, super cringey, but I was like, “Sure, why not?”

So I dutifully answered the, like, five questions and then excitedly waited for them to email me (I know, so sketch) the results. I opened the email and scrolled down and imagined how the algorithm would confirm my inner Athena (goddess of war and wisdom) or Aprhodite (the goddess of love). Instead I scrolled down further to see a coin emblazoned with a woman with a head full of snakes and learned that Medusa, the creature from mythology that turned people into stone, was my true inner goddess. I wondered what was wrong with me.

But the more I thought about it over the next week or so, I kept going back to the website and looking at the pendant, the more I thought, “I’m into it.”

It was expensive at the time — about $200 all in — but I never took it off for a really long time and whenever I needed strength, I’d grasp the pendant between my thumb and forefinger and press hard. The necklace really became a symbol for me of what I could accomplish. The power I held to do what needed to be done and take care of myself and those I loved.

Fast forward two years and once again, I wanted a something that would remind me of what I was capable of. I was kind of thrust into a new position at the start of last year that came with a lot more responsibilities and visibility, and I really rose to the occasion. I didn’t have time to worry about whether I could do any of it or overthink things. I just dove in and did what needed to be done.

Initially, I considered one of the (many) luxury items that I’d been coveting. Maybe a Gucci bag? Or an Hermes belt? Then I decided jewelry would last longer and was then hot to buy a Van Cleef necklace. But much like the pricy Maclaren baby stroller that took me MONTHS to finally buy when I had my fourth kid in 2002 and then marveled at how light and easy strollers had gotten in the 10 years since I’d become a mom, and the pair of Blundstone boots I debated spending the money on and now wear every damn day, it took about six months to finally decide what I wanted to buy.

One of the other major events of 2023 was agreeing with my former husband to end the alimony I received each month and instead, get a final payout that I could put toward my retirement. I’d also gotten some money when my dad passed away and felt like these were signs to skim some off the top and finally buy myself that ring. Something that would signify the closing and opening of chapters in my life.

I started polling people on what rings they would buy and scouring the internet for ideas, but nothing spoke to me. I knew I wanted something to wear every day on the middle finger of my left hand, but that was about it. Finally in December, I asked my best pal if she’d go ring shopping with me and she said of course. “Does this mean we’re getting engaged?” she joked.

We spent one Saturday afternoon working with a lovely woman at the local Tiffany’s trying on all sorts of sparkly options and then walked down the street to another high-end jeweler and did the same. The saleswoman pulled out the interconnected gold bands, which slid easily onto my ring finger but was not big enough for the middle finger. She gave me a thin diamond band to stack on top, which I admired in a nearby mirror but thought it looked too wedding-y. We ended up taking lots of pictures of all the rings and I scrolled through them for days at home and kept coming back to the gold bands. I was so disappointed I couldn’t get the ring in a bigger size.

The woman from the jewelry store called to say she could get something made that was similar, and that I should come back to see a sample of what that might look like from a different jewelry designer. But then I went away the following weekend to visit my daughter and the times the store was open didn’t really work for my 9-5 schedule. Finally, I slipped out of work early one Friday afternoon to get to the jewelry store before it closed. The saleswoman showed me a sample of what they could have made for me, but it was silver instead of gold, was studded with rubies on every band that also had deep ridges running across them. It was hard to imagine what it might look like, and when I held it in the palm of my hand, it didn’t have the heft that the other ring had.

I asked to try the original ring again and noticed a couple of enamel bands that I hadn’t seen during my first visit and asked if I could try the white one on. I slipped them all on and held my hand up and we both admired how it all looked stacked together. “Too bad you can’t just wear it on that finger,” said the saleswoman.

We talked some more about what fingers single women wore rings on and whether any of it mattered, and eventually we learned that we were both divorced and she mentioned how long it had been for her. “Actually,” I said, thinking about the date, “I would have been married 33 years ago today.” And then we both started to laugh. “I mean, if that’s not a sign,” she said, and we quickly talked dollars and in no time, I was walking out with the rings on my left hand.  

I had been a stay-at-home-mom with four kids for many years. I cut crusts off sandwiches, bought gallons and gallons of milk each week and spent many cold afternoons sitting on a bench at the playground watching little ones go up and down slides and wishing the day would just end. When everyone would finally be showered and in bed and I could pour a glass of wine and sit outside on the deck and smoke a cigarette and think about what I was doing with my life.

Not that I didn’t hang my hat on being a mom for many (many) years. I loved a lot of it and in a way, it defined who I was for a long time. That was my job and I was pretty good at it (although the Yelp reviews from my four adult children might tell a different story).

But fast forward 20, even 30, years and my life could not be more different. And I worked really hard to get here. Like Medusa, I had to turn my attention toward a lot of old stories I used to tell myself and stop them in their tracks. I’m not going to pretend I have always been good or consistent along the way, but I’ve somehow pulled it out of my butt to figure some things out and no longer have to rely on anyone to support me. Every time I look at my left hand now, I’m reminded of that journey. How every step along the way brought me to this very minute (sitting in my bathrobe typing away at my laptop).

That engagement ring I wore so many years ago brought me joy because it symbolized everything I wanted — getting married and starting a family. These new rings bring a similar — but different — joy that comes after living 30+ extra years. After letting go of who I thought I was and discovering who I wanted to be. It’s still a work in progress but the rings remind me of how far I can still go.

sunday shares: read + watch + cook + buy

• I am a binge-aholic. If you follow me on Instagram, you might know from a recent story that I had Moh’s surgery this week to remove a basal cell from my nose that resulted in 10 stitches. As such, I have been lying low this weekend watching TV and avoiding wearing reading glasses, which press on the incision site and are annoying. Here’s what I watched:

  • I flew through the series “SisterS” on Prime, which I loved. It was created by and stars the actress who played Sally on Barry (another binge-worthy series).

  • I LOVED Daniel Levy’s new Netflix movie “Good Grief,” which I’d compare to a gay Nancy Meyers movie. The various homes are amazing real estate porn and London and Paris at Christmastime (despite the a story about grief) are lovely. I might watch it again.

  • I started “Such Brave Girls” on HULU. British single mom with two daughters. Kinda raunchy and crude but also, funny.

  • When I just need something to watch, I have been loving “Abbott Elementary” also on HULU. There’s a reason this ABC series, about teachers in a woefully underfunded Philadelphia elementary school has been winning all the awards since it debuted a few years ago. Principal Ava for president.

• Giving my seltzer an upgrade. I am in LUST for this new colored glassware line from Target. I never make mocktails at home (which is a far cry from all the cocktails I’d prepare for myself while drinking), but at the very least I’d like to sip my plain seltzer from one of these cute glasses. The coupe, perhaps. BTW: Target’s website stinks, as does this LTK link so just go to Target and fondle them there.

• How do I Shallot? Local friends, I Shallotted hard this week, eating all the things I picked up at The Blonde Shallot in Little Silver on repeat after my surgery. In fact, I even sent my son back to pick up the yummy cauliflower bites from their new Pure & Plated gf and df options. I would make a big plate of the bites and some of the new Barcelona Salad, smashed chickpeas and some quinoa and tabbouleh salad. I sprinkled all of this with her ranch dressing, that she’s now selling and is like CRACK, and it was SO GOOD. Gah.

• Whoopsie daisy. A few weeks ago I talked about a Substack and blog I was obsessed with, and neglected to share the link. The writer is Joanna Goddard who’s the creator of Cup of Jo and the Substack newsletter Big Salad and apparently, she’s been around for years and yet I just found her in December. Although she’s probably 10 years younger, I adore all her style and culture recommendations and have fallen down some serious holes clicking around her content. I just love her vibe and think some of you might, too.

• How dry is your January? Finally, this week’s “Asking for a friend” dipped its toe into the Dry January waters to see if it continued to live up to the annual hype. TBD on that but I did learn about a few new podcasts and Ted Talks from one of our readers. You can read about it here or chime in with any recommendations of your own.

Enjoy the week! xoAmy