Handy

One thing no one ever tells you before you get engaged: You're going to be looking at your own hand. A lot. Quite simply, you can't stop. At least I can't. I catch myself walking to the deli or to lunch or to the bathroom at work, my eyes pointed downwards, staring at my ring finger. Constantly. Since I cross streets like this, navigating my way through Manhattan with my eyes affixed firmly to my own finger, it's bordering on dangerous. And it's certainly crossed the line over to obnoxious. A friend even caught me in mid-stare the other day. Tres embarrassing. But I can't help it! Maybe it's that I've haven't been engaged for even two weeks yet. Maybe it's that I'm not used to seeing anything on my fingers fancier than Essie Mademoiselle polish and the occasional Banana Republic bauble. Maybe it's that I've become a materialistic, egocentric, bling-obsessed bitch. Whatever the reason, it's clear that I am now a certified self-starer, a diamond-doter. Talk about giving myself a hand.