I was back at the daily grind today, daydreaming as I mindlessly unwrapped a box of crap, when I noticed a woman purposefully pushing a shopping cart toward me and trailing a teenage daughter.
"Do you have a purity ring," she demanded. My mind was suffering from a lack of caffeine and for a split second I thought she was inquiring about the state of my hymen which, frankly, is none of her business. I was worried that I look like a born-again virgin since I'm way too old and jaded to be an original virgin. (I have it on good authority that if you haven't had sex in a year you are a born-again virgin.)
Would she have shoved it on her daughter's finger thinking it would protect her like some medieval chastity belt? The ring doesn't have quite the same coverage.
But isn't that kind of what the ubiquitous CTR ring is for Mormons? Sort of a symbol that says "you'll never get in my pants until the wedding night (or maybe the wedding afternoon if we get the chance)"?
Deseret Book should start selling these shirts instead.
I know my blog title doesn't quite fit the post but it's a damn good title and I couldn't waste it.