Shopping Without A Ring
On the summer of the great ring experiment (read about it), I went on my first ever solo trip. You read that correctly, I left both the husband and the ring home. Now, there wasn’t a snowball’s shot in hell that my husband was joining me on my trip. See, I’m a serious nerd. That summer, I decided that I wanted to devote three weeks to watching specific surgeries. I reached out to a handful of colleagues whom I admire and asked if they would schedule some specific surgeries for me to watch.
Simply to learn some of the nuances of their work and hand positioning. Then, I wanted to spend my evenings reading textbooks and the latest studies on various surgical approaches. Aside from the literature being graphic, super early scrub in times, literally smelling like blood and sweat, and being deeply submerged in learning made for an incredibly uninteresting trip for my husband. So, he stayed home.
Given that jewelry cannot be worn for a thorough scrub in, I couldn’t wear my ring during the day even if I wanted to. Granted, it’s a controversial subject. Either way, not interested in rocking the boat. Since I was mostly going straight back to the hotel room to eat, read, and sleep, there was no point in wearing my ring to bed. So, I left it home – no social activities were happening.
One day, surgeries ended early and I had no idea what to do with myself. There is a beautiful Neiman Marcus across from the office and I walked through it on my way back to the hotel most evenings. The sights and smells made it my sanctuary to clear my mind before swan diving in my books in the hotel room. This time, the cases ended early enough for me to go for a walk. Before I knew it, I was lured into Bergdorf. It was beautiful.
The store was full of pretty trinkets, sparkly shoes and fragrant candles. After two weeks of watching surgeries, being hot and sweaty, and studying, the experience was intoxicating. I remembered that I only had a few drops of my favorite perfume left, and it would be nice to smell like myself. So, I started looking for my favorite fragrance. Joy by Jean Patou isn’t easy to find, so the hunt is part of the excitement.
Walking towards the perfume counter, a sales person approached me. Mind you, I was wearing scrubs and looked like a wilted daisy. She asked me if I’m a doctor or nurse. I replied with my educational background.
She then said, “Wow, men don’t like smart girls! No wonder you’re single. Let’s find something to help change that.” I was stunned but kept my mouth shut. Part of me wondered if there was a scent that made you smell less accomplished. Then, if that exists, what would it smell like? Then, what a terrible message to give a single woman. Success isn’t easy to achieve, why shouldn’t we ALL be allowed to celebrate it? The scent of mediocre that she was trying to sell me, it wasn’t working, so I went back to searching.
The moment I found my perfume, another salesperson approached me. I picked up the bottle, closed my eyes and smiled as I smelled it. To me, it smells like heaven. Granted, the scent is almost a hundred years old and there are countless other scents out there. For me, it smells like timeless decadence.
The thousand flowers that go into making each bottle make it one of my favorite treats. While enjoying olfactory bliss, the sales person said, “Put that down! You’re single because you smell like an old lady! You need to smell younger than you are, not older! You’re going to be single forever!” Part of me wanted to whip my husband’s picture out of my wallet to give proof that she was wrong. Then it hit me. Why do we nit-pick at women’s marital status?
Commentary on being too smart, too old, or too whatever is ridiculous. Sometimes, I wonder if I had “a ring on it” that day if the salespeople would have used the same strategy of making me feel insecure to make a sale. Finding a husband or wife is great. Having a solid marriage is a blessing that takes a lot of work. However, it shouldn’t be our only identity.