Engagement ring. What's better than the moment when you look at your engagement ring. Yeah, yeah-- the proposal speech, awesome. But you know you're just dying to look down and fixate on the bling.
I COULD NOT believe the ring I got. Huge. 3 Stones. All emerald cut-- weighing in at stunning 5 carrots. Totally not my style, size wize. I'm much more conservative. I'm like a silver wearing, hemp bracelet kinda girl. At least, I was.
But this thing was nuts. So big and sparkly and gorgeous.
At the time, I was a full time waitress at the Sheraton NY. How does a waitress wear such a huge ring and still expect to get tips? One customer actually had the gawl to say to her husband once, "honey, see? Even our WAITRESS has a bigger ring than me!" --no joke, that really happened. People are assholes.
So at first, I didn't wear it to work at all. But over time, I grew to love my rocks, and rocked them 24/7. It gave me a sense of power, and belonging. It made me feel less subservient to my customers. A confidence that I had never known before.
Years later, we opened our own bar, MP's Ale house. On the upper east side. It was an immediate success. So now I really felt justified in my ring. I was a successful business owner's wife, and was decorated as such.
I carried on my life like a socialite. Cash was rolling in. I still waited tables, and my husband was bringing in a steady flow of income from the success of MP's.
It was on.
I met one of my best friends, K at MP's. I think she may have saved my life. Up until then, I really didn't have anyone. I had my two sisters, and my highschool bff KT, but noone in the city to spend time with. Until this point, I was working full time with lots of overtime, so I really never needed or wanted a new friend to spend time with. Frankly, I didn't need anyone.
--sidebar-- Holy shit, I can't believe I am talking (writing) THIS much about a fucking ring.--
Aaaanyway, So when I'm pregnant, I am tooootally pregnant. Meaning, every cliche pregnancy symptom happens to me. Including, but not limited to, swelling fingers.
Now to the point of my rambling. Christmas, 2008- I remember wearing my engagement ring, despite the swollen fingers, becasue I was dressed up, and those days, it was RARE that I got dressed in the morning at all, let alone dressed up.
A few days later, I was headed out somewhere. I got dressed, and turned to my dresser to grab my ring-- I stopped wearing it regularly at this point-- the ring wasn't there. Hmm.. I always put it on the same spot on my dresser.? hmmmmm...?
So I went downstairs and checked the window sill over the kitchen sink. Then I checked the mantle in the livingroom. No ring. I checked all the usual spots that I occasional took it off. Nowhere to be found.
Over the next few days/weeks, I tore the house apart. I checked the yard with a fine tooth comb (not literally, but practically). I questioned everyone I knew and had any contact with. No dice. It simply disappeared. Even pulled the gigantic fridge out from it's spot, at 4 months pregnant, to see if I'd dropped it back there. Nope.
Blahblibbityblah blah blah.
Months and months later... my 2nd son, R was born.. life went on, but I still obsessed over the ring. I was so mad at myself. Although I tend towards laziness, and am a crappy housekeeper, I was very good about keeping my valuables safe, and important things organized. I never lost my wallet or keys, and kept all my financial and/or medical paperwork meticulously organized. This was so unlike me! I gave myself a brake sometimes, thinking, "well, you're marriage is crumbling, you have 2 babies.. shit happens."
February, 2009, I went to pay my amex bill... the balance was about $22,000 more than it was the previous month.
Finally, after an insane amount of drama had occured between me and my ex- including, but not limited to, him telling me about the blow torch to the arm incident, he confessed to stealing my ring and selling it.
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