Blog of Magic Cheese

I've never thought much about having a very traditional wedding. I like blue too much to wear all white, I don't want to mention God, I think I'd prefer a drunken pirate captain to a minister, I think an ice cream cake would be a great idea, and I've never been big on the idea of engagement rings.

As much as I like jewelry, rings are too impractical for a person who spends much of her life in jeans and digging in the pockets of said jeans for change for bubble teas. I can't have raised stones and metal settings that are going to catch on the fabric, especially on my left hand, as I'm a southpaw. Then there's a host of issues with blood diamonds, the overpriced materialistic expectations of rings and diamonds that I think is brilliant marketing but personally irritates the bejeezus out of me, and the origin of the wedding band coming from women being considered flighty outerworldly inhuman creatures that needed a band of metal around their heart fingers (the third one) to capture them and keep 'em from flying off.

So yes, I thought I was a wedding band-only type of gal.

He surprised me completely. It's small and flat and won't catch on my jeans, and it's blue and perfect. And for all I thought I was a practical and independent and different thinker, I broke down and cried like a traditional sissy.