The ring

Up until a couple of days ago I did not have the hardware to prove that I was getting married. I could imagine all the girls at work talking behind my back,
"She keeps saying she's getting married, but their's no proof. I mean have any of you, like, even met her fiance?". The girls at work don't really talk like that though.
It took a few weeks to get an engagement ring because I loathe mass-produced chain-store jewellery, to the point where I had been overheard saying that I wouldn't want an engagement ring. But my thoughts on this changed a few months ago when a burglar cashed in all my jewellery and family heirlooms for some smack.
Having changed my outlook on engagement rings and my willingness to wear one, I did some research and booked an appointment with a jewellery designer in Melbourne. His name was Simon West and he is a very talented man.
After some discussion about the four C's, and both Simon and Bryan being astounded by my uncanny ability to pick the most expensive diamond in a lineup, we designed the perfect ring. The perfect ring, by the way, does not necessarily contain the biggest or most expensive diamond in the lineup. We learned that you can get a far prettier ring by compromising on carat and increasing the colour quality and clarity.
Oh yes, we knew it was the perfect ring when my eyes glazed over and I began to levitate.

Two days ago I went to pick up the ring, and was delighted with it. It is the most sparkly thing that I have been given since Santa gave me a glitter pen for Christmas in 1986. I find myself spending minutes at a time gazing and smiling at the ring; holding my hand up to the light to see it sparkle; and waving my hand around in public far more than is necessary.