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It’s a Beautiful Watch, But I Can’t Get It On

     Man was not meant to fasten a watch with one hand. Woman, either. I got this new watch. Actually it’s an old watch, handed down from Mom’s aunt to her, and then Mom gave it to me before she died. It’s beautiful, but I can’t get it on.

     I wrap it around my wrist but I can’t fasten it because the triangular prongs that are supposed to go into the itty bitty holes on the other end don’t quite reach. Almost –  not quite.

     I keep the watch in my jewelry box and every five years or so I try it on, but when I can’t fasten it, I remember my fat wrist and put it back in the box.

     After my last diet I figured my wrist had lost weight, so I tried the watch on. Unfortunately, my wrist hadn’t lost an ounce.

     I happened to show the watch to the guy whose wedding anniversary I share and he loved it so much he sneaked down to the watchmaker to have it resized. He wanted to surprise me, but the jeweler had to take my wrist measurements to get it sized right.

     Several weeks later, the watch appeared on the table, golden and lustrous, in a warm sort of way. I wrapped it around my wrist and pulled the prongs toward the itty bitty holes. They didn’t reach.

     Had my wrists gained weight? Back to the watchmaker for another stretch.  This time when it reappeared, it fit perfectly.

     But I couldn’t get it on.  I could not get the tiny prongs to match up with the itty bitty holes. Every time they came near the holes, the prongs wiggled or slithered away - or I dropped the whole watch.

     You know how it is – trying to hold a watch on your wrist and insert little prongs into little holes with your other hand. Humans weren’t designed to do that. It takes at least three hands: one to hold the watch in place, one for each of the ends to match them up.

     I tried a dry run without my wrist in it – to get the hang of how the prongs fit into the holes. Even that was hard! After I did that several times I put the watch back on my wrist, held the prongs and prayed silently as I maneuvered them toward the holes.

     I got it! The tips of the prongs were just barely inside the holes. I pushed the prongs further into the holes. A little more…  Ouch!

     That’s my skin! But I hadn’t got this close since Mom gave me the watch. Should I sacrifice a patch of my skin and keep pushing?

     I didn’t get to make that decision. The prongs fell out and the watch slipped off. I put it back in the jewelry box.

     The next morning as I dressed for work, it occurred to me that the watch might look quite nice with my suit. I wrapped it around my wrist. It looked great. But it wasn’t  fastened - yet.

     I held the arm with the watch on it firmly against my waist and moved my other hand into position to fasten the clasp. I looked around, hoping to find another hand to hold the end with the holes, but there weren’t any nearby, so I clung with all my might to keep the watch from slipping away and went to work. Mom always said I was stubborn.

     Ten minutes later, sweat pouring off my neck and shoulders, I was still struggling to match those tiny prongs to the two itty bitty holes. I was about to give up when the prongs suddenly went straight into the holes. All the way to the final click.

     I did it! You know, I think I heard mom cheer…

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