Very Superstitious … Wri-tings In My Jewelry Box

I would definitely say I borderline have a hoarding issue with costume jewelry. I live for and have an extreme romance with it and probably will one day end up as the tragic girl who lives inside her costume jewelry boxes. But regardless of all of the random bling I wear, there are three pieces of real jewelry that I rarely ever take off. That would be my David Yurman ring my mom got me for graduating college, my atlas clock necklace from Tiffany that I got as an 18th birthday present, and a skinny silver cuff that is a Vietnam War memorial that I wear for my Dad. If I wasn’t wearing any of those pieces well … I would just feel naked AND … yeah, not safe. Wait, wait, wait … let me explain.

So I could buy a piece of random costume jewelry for funsies any day of the week. But when it comes to the real stuff … well, I usually (like normal people, I assume) only get that for special occasions. I unfortunately haven’t had the pleasure of frolicking over to Tiffany on a random Saturday afternoon to buy myself a silver ring just because. To me … it would have no value. It’s all about the sentiment so I can look down at it and say, “oh yeah I got this because I worked my ass off for four years” not, “oh yeah, I got this because I’m a princess who buys herself Tiffany for no reason other than because I like shiny things.”

But there are a few pieces of real jewelry that I got for legit reasons that I can’t wear. Like actual Tiffany pieces that have been sitting in my jewelry box for years because well, every time I wear them I either have a bad day or something terrible happens. And it doesn’t stop there. There are pieces of costume jewelry, pieces of clothing and some nail polishes that I refuse to rock anymore simply because every single time, like clockwork, things start going awry. No, I don’t have OCD, I’m not overly particular … I’m just straight up superstitious when it comes to retail goods. I’m not scared of Friday the 13th and yeah … I would probably spoon and snuggle any black cat on any day of the week .

I promise you that I don’t lay in bed crying surrounded by tissues as I gently finger the lost pieces of fantastic jewelry I can no longer wear whilst listening to “Hello,” by Lionel Richie. Absolutely not. If anything I’ve come to a conclusion that I only wear the three main pieces I described above and the rest of the stuff is great to look at … but not something I concern myself with. Do I feel crazytown sometimes because of it? Yes … because at the end of the day I know it isn’t the jewelry making the day shitty or letting bad things happen … it is just very fortuitous that it happens only when I wear specific pieces … s’all I’m sayin’.

Have I thought about getting rid of them or giving them to people who need them more than me? Absolutely not. At the end of the day they are memories of major events that have happened in my life. So to get rid of them would be like getting rid of a small piece of that memory. So yeah … I’m completely content hoarding my memory jewels and not letting them see the light of day for fear they will rock my life boat. Hello cray-cray … what up, I know … I know.

Sure, I could probably pay a therapists thousands of dollars a week or month to lay on their uncomfortable couch and have them ask me inane questions like, “so what did the silver necklace do to you that was so bad,” or make me slowly start wearing the jewelry for small increments of time day … but honestly, my life isn’t a mess because of this silly issue … it is just a quirky part of me out of several that make up who I am. And who knows, maybe one day when I’m rollin’ in jewels I will start a museum highlighting my superstitious jewels.

And here’s to hopin’ my engagement ring, one day, is a. gorg, b. good luck!


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