On my day, my wife gave me a beautiful printed ring.
To my surprise, it didn’t hit one of the fingers.
Wife: Well, you said we have the same fingers!
I look at her thin palm and my grabs. I begin to ask.
Fifteen years ago, when we were not yet married, I made an offer to my girlfriend, and she agreed, taking a ring that suited her well.
Then she tortured me as I guessed with the size – her rings weren’t so many, and they were more or less constantly in sight. I said I moved the ring and remembered where it went.
So she concluded that we have the same fingers. And then it came to the smallest, to the first phalanx.
Fifteen years later, my fingers became thicker.