Confession of a Watch Lover

With the arrival of the New Year, everyone has a heightened awareness of time. People are making all sorts of resolutions with deadlines on how and when to accomplish those goals. I have all kinds of opinions about time because of my ambiguous relationship with it now. But more than those ambivalent connections, I still respect and admire time. Evidence of that admiration is my ownership of several watches.

I used to own many watches, 14 at one time, to coordinate and complement my outfits, but I must confess that, that relationship has gone awry. I have allowed my emotion for time pieces to fall by the way side. Time was when I used to race to the nearest store to buy batteries for my watches lest they failed to keep accurate time.

I confess that I have allowed time to steal away the importance of time from me. (Every fun intended here.) Time is ubiquitous now. Every appliance is equipped with the measurement for the passing of intervals. Every technological invention comes with an LCD heralding the stages of life slipping away without notice.

Frances' watches

Frances’ watches

I confess that my watches now sit expired. The hour, minute, and second hands are as still and as noiseless as a dead mouse. Granted, I still wear them, but they have lost their functionality. They just sit on my arm, an adornment for fashion only.

This laptop that is pounding away is equipped with time. My cell phone has an alarm and a clock built into it, my clock-radio has clock, the television has a clock on the lower right hand corner and across the chart that shows programs featured or forthcoming, the microwave, stove, big clock in the hallway, the car, printer, DVD player, and numerous other pieces have stolen the functionality of the watch as the keeper of time for those on the go.

I guess one could look at it as division of labor, but I look at the watch as a fashion accessory and no longer as a time keeper since I hardly consult it to keep me informed of my obligations since the one on my wrist is woefully silent. I do not know that I would use the word love anymore when I refer to watches. Once upon a time, I really had a huge admiration for watches because of their multi-purpose in making us feel important.

I admired a well-dressed man who twisted his arm with drama just to make the world behold the expensive specimen on his wrist. I still admire him for raising my temperature and for being fashionable, but the watch, alas, does not raise my eyebrow or temperature as it did once, not even the expensive Rolex, not anymore. My watches now serve as a second bangle or bracelet on my left wrist. Like Muhammad Ali said in a famous commercial, “My face is so pretty, I deserve two” (watches). I certainly deserve two bracelets: one of them a watch and the other a bracelet.

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