Fuck All The Perfect People

I also don’t give a fuck about all the perfect people.
Who care so much about me wearing a ring on my “wedding” finger!
Two actually!
Since you’re asking…
Guess who bought me the band on my finger?
Guess who the other one belonged to?!
The one that looks too tiny to be anything else but a keyring.
My Nana, Abigail.
I inherited it when she died.
I bought this band for myself in a souvenir shop in Texas for $10!
And I didn’t always wear it.
I didn’t always wear my Nana’s.
They were in my jewelry box.
Once upon a time, I did wear an engagement ring & a wedding band on THAT finger.
But that’s the only finger my band will fit on!
That’s the only finger my “keyring” will fit on!
So I didn’t start wearing THESE rings on THIS finger until I took the other ones off.
And I’ve tried to take these ones off.
To wear them on another finger.
I lost Nana’s once.
And then again.
I’ve lost it TWICE.
I once scraped the skin from my entire knuckle off because I had attempted to wear my band on another finger.
And my other finger didn’t heal for WEEKS.
To appease you conformist people.
But I can’t.
And what they mean to me.
And what they symbolize.
So, yeah…
I still wear a ring on my finger.
Two actually.
I often use them to tell assholes like you, I’M MARRIED.
And walk away!

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