Mark Twain once said: 'Let us not be too particular; it is better to have old secondhand diamonds than none at all' ... I'd have to agree all though I can't say I have personal experience of such a thing.
You see, my hubby got it 'oh-so-over the top-right' when he picked my engagement ring which left me speechless and in a puddle of tears for a good few minutes – the poor man had to remind me that he kneeded an answer! I got spoilt, very spoilt.
But enough about me (well at least for a few paragraphs before the need to be shamelessly self-indulgent strikes again). The point of this post is to talk about my second stream of income, the one that doesn't come from inhaling paint fumes and beating up on canvases. The one that lets me play with pretty things and make the dreams that grown women have had since they were little girls come true.
Whether it be a modest 0.3ct round cut diamond delicately nestled in a simple gold band, or a 2-carat flawless monster surrounded by a flock of shimmering baguettes – an engagement ring is (hopefully) forever and hopefully the key to a world of wedded bliss, picket fences, his & hers bath robes and (dare I say it) happily ever after ...
Saying 'yes' to a man on bended knee should send a chill up your spine for all the right reasons and in the hectic, stress-filled, wedding planning months the pretty ornament on your ring finger should bring a smile to your face even in those toughest of tough mother-in-law smack down moments.
Having said 'I do' almost a year ago, I'm new at this wedded bliss stuff but think I've earned my stripes in the 'engaged to be married' category and I'm not ashamed to admit that the best bit of my job is handing over a ring box ('The will you marry me' tool safely inside its velvet walls) to a nervous man on the day he plans to pop the question – it is SO exciting and SO worth every minute of 'ummming and aaahing' over which diamond cut to go for and the 'should I go for platinum instead of white gold?' questions.
And with that the brainwashing began...
You see, my hubby got it 'oh-so-over the top-right' when he picked my engagement ring which left me speechless and in a puddle of tears for a good few minutes – the poor man had to remind me that he kneeded an answer! I got spoilt, very spoilt.
But enough about me (well at least for a few paragraphs before the need to be shamelessly self-indulgent strikes again). The point of this post is to talk about my second stream of income, the one that doesn't come from inhaling paint fumes and beating up on canvases. The one that lets me play with pretty things and make the dreams that grown women have had since they were little girls come true.
Whether it be a modest 0.3ct round cut diamond delicately nestled in a simple gold band, or a 2-carat flawless monster surrounded by a flock of shimmering baguettes – an engagement ring is (hopefully) forever and hopefully the key to a world of wedded bliss, picket fences, his & hers bath robes and (dare I say it) happily ever after ...
Saying 'yes' to a man on bended knee should send a chill up your spine for all the right reasons and in the hectic, stress-filled, wedding planning months the pretty ornament on your ring finger should bring a smile to your face even in those toughest of tough mother-in-law smack down moments.
Having said 'I do' almost a year ago, I'm new at this wedded bliss stuff but think I've earned my stripes in the 'engaged to be married' category and I'm not ashamed to admit that the best bit of my job is handing over a ring box ('The will you marry me' tool safely inside its velvet walls) to a nervous man on the day he plans to pop the question – it is SO exciting and SO worth every minute of 'ummming and aaahing' over which diamond cut to go for and the 'should I go for platinum instead of white gold?' questions.
"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental. But diamonds are a girl's best friend. A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat, or help you at the automat... Men grow cold as girls grow old and we all lose our charms in the end. But square cut or pear shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape ... Time rolls on and youth is gone and you can't straighten up when you bend. But stiff back or stiff knees, you stand straight at Tiffany's."
And with that the brainwashing began...
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