Diamonds Give Me Heartburn

I think I was nine when my Nana took me to get my ears pierced. She might have been more excited about it than I was. She even bought me a little pair of diamond chip earrings to switch into once I was healed. “These are very special and expensive,” she said, placing the velvet box into my hand. “You have to take good care of them.”

On the way home, my parents explained how Nana had worked very hard at Kmart to save up for the earrings because she really really wanted me to have them. I loved Nana and I didn’t want to disappoint her. I wore them continuously for what to a kid felt like a long time. Then for whatever reason I took them off. I must have put them on my nightstand or something and from there they fell on the floor. At that age, the floor of my room was like an abyss, toys and junk covering every square inch. Something that small didn’t have a chance.

I cried a lot about losing those diamond chip earrings. I cried alone in my room, later when I told my parents, and especially when I told my Nana. The guilt burned me up inside. She just smiled and hugged me tight. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

I think the desire for diamond jewelry is weird. It never seems worth the cost. Even before their popularity started to wane, I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Sure, they are sparkly I guess, but so what? It’s not worth spending two month’s salary to have one.

The marketing slight of hand which simultaneously convinces you that diamonds mean love while ignoring the human rights nightmare of diamond mining is truly staggering. I’m glad millennials are, as they say, “killing the diamond industry.”

Back when my husband and I started getting serious, he asked me what kind of engagement ring I wanted. I told him I didn’t want one, just a wedding band was fine. But he really wanted to buy me a ring with a stone. I wanted to make him happy, so I asked for an emerald because I liked the color.

After about five years of everyday wear, the emerald fell out of my ring. He made plans to get it fixed, but I prefer just wearing my wedding band that matches his. Now that you know how I feel about diamonds and expensive jewelry, you can imagine my confusion when my Nana left me a very large, very ugly heirloom diamond ring in her will.

Let me clarify that Nana knew the ring was ugly. She said so herself. The purpose of giving me the ring was not so that I could walk around wearing it like Zsa Zsa Gabor, but that I could sell it and use the cash for something important. Nobody in my family knows how much it’s worth. I don’t come from a wealthy family. Getting a ring appraised is something as foreign to me as a Kardashian yacht party. And put it off as long as I could.

Then when I got pregnant with my daughter, my husband and I started thinking about buying a house. Not sure if we could qualify for a loan, we figured selling the ring would at least help with the down payment. We googled jewelry appraisers in our area and found one with good reviews. I started having second thoughts just walking into the place. My pregnancy hormones were turned up to eleven. The main appraiser was not there. He was on vacation or something, but one of the ladies that worked there agreed to take look at the ring and give us a ballpark figure.

“Here it is,” I said, taking it out of the box and showing it to her. She wanted to take it into the back room to clean it. I asked her to just tell us what she thought of it without cleaning it. She seemed offended that I didn’t want to just hand it to her. “We are a family establishment. We’re not going to steal your ring!,” she said.

I started to cry. I was scared that I was going to screw this up. Nana trusted me. What if I sold the ring for less than it was worth? What if I held onto it for too long and now the market is bad? What if I didn’t hang onto it for long enough and I should wait a few more years to sell it? I ran out of that jewelry store with more questions than when I went in. That was eight years ago.

We are finally in a place to start talking about houses again. My husband mentioned the ring. I told him to go ahead and sell it. I don’t want to be involved. Diamonds give me heartburn and Nana said it’s okay.