Today, I had a very important thing to attend that I was really nervous about. As I got dressed this morning, I changed my top about seven times to see what looked best with my outfit (yes, I am absolutely a typical girl). I applied a little more makeup, a little more carefully than usual. I put about 110% more effort into taming and shaping my insane curly hair into something presentable. I spent like TEN MINUTES shaving my legs just to avoid that awkward "Shit, I missed a tiny spot" feeling.
And then I hurried out the door because all this primping had made me late.
And I forgot my Notre Dame class ring on the bathroom counter.
My ring, pre-monogram flip, on graduation day.
This is an extremely big deal. Yes, clearly it is an inane detail that wouldn't make or break an appearance with ^that^ much effort put into it; for me, however, not having that damn ring was an absolute blow.
See, that ring has become my talisman over the past five years (dear God, how has it been five years since junior fall of college?!). That ring is so significant to me, for so many reasons. And not having that ring on made me feel bare and empty all over, not just on the third finger of my right hand but from the tips of my hair to the tips of my toes.
My friend Zach's ring is so big that mine fits inside it.
I still remember the day I picked that ring out with my parents, spring semester of sophomore year. I had been ogling the specific ring I wanted since pretty much week one of freshman year, and I was so excited to go pick it out and officially place my order--class rings are a status symbol for upperclassmen at ND. I was, however, apprehensive about the cost…upwards of $600, minimum.
My parents were amazing about it…gifted me the ring, adored the classic "traditional" design and color combo I picked out, and even upgraded me to 14k gold instead of 10k. I was thrilled. Since then, I've worn that ring nearly every day and on three continents. I get a tan line from it in the summer, and if I don't have it on, I wear at the skin underneath where it usually sits because I'm so used to playing with it.
When Conk and I get together we tend to pinky promise things, Notre Dame girl-style.
At any rate…I forgot my ring today, on a day when I was pretty sure I could use some pretty serious good-luck charm action. I spent my entire 20-minute drive fidgeting with the naked skin where my palm met my finger, feeling completely uncomfortable and weirdly stressed. Thank heaven for pump-up jams and best friends (Conk, loooove you) who know exactly what to say to calm a stressy bitch down.
Bottom line, at the end of the day, I didn't need my good-luck charm. I did just fine without it, and after the initial shock wore off, I barely noticed it was missing.
Needless to say, though…better bet I'm sleeping with that thing on my finger from now on. Every Irish girl could use a little good-luck charm in her life, right?
