Before I got married, I hardly wore rings on my finger. And when I do, it's only when I go out. At home, the rings are back in the jewelry box where they belong.
So you can imagine how weird it is to be wearing a wedding band all the time. I normally take it out when I'm doing the dishes, or when I need to wash my hands. Come to think about it, whenever there's a need to get my hands wet, or if they're slathered with hand cream, I remove the ring. I couldn't stand getting my ring all wet and icky.
Yesterday, I had about the biggest shock I've had in a long time. I almost lost my wedding band.
It was just past midnight that I had a strange feeling that my wedding ring wasn't where it was supposed to be. I'd normally put it on my dresser, along with my husband's. I got out of bed and checked.
It wasn't there.
I checked the desk, the couch, the kitchen, the loo ... everywhere I could think of. Did I drop it in my bag? Did it *gasp* fall into the rubbish bin? I almost had a panic attack, I tell you.
In the end, I found it, in my laptop. That is, it was wedged between the screen and the keyboard, and I didn't realise that I closed the notebook without removing my ring. I must have taken the ring off when I was typing or something. I have a tendency to do that as well.
So now, I'm making sure it's on my finger, 24/7.
Oh wait. I'm not wearing it. Bugger, where did I put it again?!
Playing naughty doctors and nurses games is by no means in the cards, but this crosses the line.
There's something mighty strange when it's no longer a game, and that your own husband performs an actual medical procedure on you. I'm not going to say what it is, but suffice to say, it's definitely not a pleasant one.
Why do I suddenly feel so dirty?
Update: It's NOT a pelvic exam, or anything that's got to do with any parts below the waist. Just sayin'.
It's getting exceedingly difficult to blog these days.
I'm losing steam to write anything. It's not as though nothing is going on in my life, but I just can't seem to put them in words. A sense of discouragement sweeps over me. It's not the lack of readers; you guys are the best. Seriously. I don't know what's come over me. Maybe it's the lack of sense of achievement. A lack of self and purpose, a routine which is getting too all too familiar for my liking. A burning question in my head - "what am I doing here?!"
The pity party in me is having a real ball, that I can tell you. I've slipped into this funk yet again.
A change is what I need. To do something totally different, to delve into the unknown, still with the confidence to survive. I know what I want to do.
The question is, do I have the courage to pursue it?
I turn 28 today. Twenty-freakin'-eight! Two more years and I'll be in my *gasp* thirties!
I remembered how miserable I was on New Year's Eve of 2006, contemplating the fact that I would be turning 27 then. I even told my girlfriends to not remind me about actually turning 27 lest I jump off the Penang Bridge. Sad, huh?
Still, with all the theatrics and drama aside, this has been a great year thus far. It's my first birthday as a married woman, and in a wholly different environment altogether. I have great friends who have not forgotten about lil' ol' me here down under. And even though I still don't have a job just yet (don't remind me, yeah?), I'm happy.
I have a wonderful man who loves me dearly, a lovely family who support me in whatever I chose to become or do, and beautiful friends. The Lord has been so faithful to me even though I'm so much less. Words cannot describe how much I thank Him for His abundant blessings upon my life.
So bring it on, 28, and whatever good or bad surprises you'll throw at me. You are but a number.