Am I scared of jewellery?
The thought popped into my head the other day, seemingly out of nowhere. Though I was reading a lot of blogs at the time, so someone probably mentioned it.
I don’t wear jewellery. I never really liked it. I have some, the usual kind, gifts from being a child. I’ve never worn them. I tried to get family to take them off me. I will never wear them. They got annoyed when I said I would sell them. It clearly means something to them, but it means diddly squat to me. I don’t even know who gave any of the pieces to me. I don’t even have a wedding ring.
If I begin to wear jewellery, will I stop being who I am? Does that mean I have given into the “you’ll do it when you’re older” (or the “You’ll Understand When You’re Older“) – which I hated hearing even as a kid. Are you supposed to hate as a kid? How did I know, even as a kid, that adults were lying about those things? Maybe I really am a finely tuned bullshit detector. In which case, I deserve a freaking medal for working corporate jobs…but that’s not quite my topic today.
I think I have liked about one piece of jewellery ever. It was a secret santa present from someone at work. It was simple, blue and held together by elastic. I think our limit was $5 that year. I’m not sure what happened to it. I have a feeling it broke. But I may have lost it.
If I wear jewellery, am I giving in to being something I’m not? Or is that a part of growing and changing?