Gimme

I was planning on writing about Valentine's Day because I was gonna pretend that I got a ruby bracelet. I would create a morality tale about the epiphany that I am superficial. Then I had a true revelation. Forget the goddamn morality thing. I would like the ruby bracelet. I imagine a gold clasp. I want an inscription, too. A word both cryptic and eclectic. None of this forever crap. How's about more or insane or vulva? Something catchy.

I am not getting a ruby bracelet. Don't get all indignant about how spoiled I am, how mainstream and regressive, complaining about a ruby bracelet. I'm hot for rubies. My students give me little notes from home in envelopes, and I say "ooh, finally, my ruby earrings." Why not? Am I supposed to settle, on this, the holy day of women-chained-to-men getting good crap, for some perfumed lace? Do I willingly ignore the gems I see on other women's fingers, as I do every other day of the year? I would accept any ruby, but I need a bracelet. It could represent all of my hypocrisy, so that when my teenager hurls that word at me, I'll say "I know! Isn't it a beauty?" Hypocrisy - the perfect inscription!

My friends would look at it and wait for me to tell them at which used clothing store I picked it up. And I'd chuckle to myself and shake my head slowly. "Oh no, Ball & Chain had to take out a loan." Their eyes would light up with admiration, and they would beg to hear how much it cost. When he purchased her engagement chunk, my grandmother had my grandfather admirably bow to her will. He bought her a diamond. When he showed it to her, she laughed heartily at its miniscule size. They went back to the jeweler's together, and she chose an absolute planet of diamond: it's so heavy it lolls to one side on my mother's finger. My grandfather had to borrow money to pay for it. Now that woman had ovaries.

Contemporary marriage is fucked up. If I ever rejected an item of jewelry, it would be cause for much stewing. And when I insisted it was too small, I hardly think I'd get a friendly response. Who's the boss over here if I can't even get some pricey stuff in the deal? One time I gushed over a lapis lazuli fish that B&C presented to me outside a shop. A year later, back in the same shop, I saw the fish - and a hundred others - in a glass jar for $2.95 My grandmother would be ashamed.

I'm currently reading Maus by Art Spiegelman. So if you can figure out how a Jewish girl can read about her ancestors starving and suffering, and then blog about gem deprivation, write in with a diagnosis. I think it's ASD/MA, or Appallingly Shallow Disorder, with Materialism Anxiety. If you check out the DSM IV (Psychological Diagnostic Tool), I meet all the criteria, including "believes material goods will genuinely create feelings of well-being." Oh, come on! Doesn't everybody?

Back to some light reading.