I was sitting in a meeting the other day (I have lots of meetings now; when I die I expect the newspaper will publish minutes in lieu of an obituary), and I found myself absentmindedly playing with my wedding ring. I had moved it back and forth over my knuckle a few times when it suddenly hit me: “My God, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do that!”

My finger is thinner. For years I’ve barely been able to fit that ring on my hand. I’ve hardly worn it the last year or two — shocking! A female misrepresenting herself to the general public by refusing to don her culturally-accepted signifier of marital status! Now it slides on and off, not exactly with ease, but at least without bacon grease.