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So I had some time off today, and I figured I’d go get my eyes checked. My vision has been getting blurry a bit in the last twenty years. My left eye was always a bit blurry at a distance, and my right eye has compensated.

At work however, I find I can’t make out fine detail at a distance like I should. Also, I can’t read things written on the whiteboard from, say, fifteen feet back like I used to. Doesn’t help when the jerk writing on the board uses red and writes small. You know who you are, sir!

Anyway, I can’t read road signs either like I used to, and that concerns me more than anything else. All these years I tried to compensate, but I cannot do so anymore. I really need to get this looked at.

So, I went to the eye place here at the mall. Free wireless here, so I’m writing. While I waited to talk to someone, I looked over the glasses selection. I found styles I liked, as well as the Michael Caine-looking glasses that are just ridiculous. Fuck!

What hit me were two things. One, I look more and more like my dad, especially with glasses on. And he looks like a little Dutch shopkeeper. At least he did when last I saw him. I put on some of the samples, and Jesus there he was staring back at me, only balder and rounder in the phiz.

Two, I look old! Oh god, there’s no way around it, is there? I shave my head because, well, it’s really easy and my head looks fine without the hair, but also, a leetle bit, because I am not reminded of age. Oh I can ignore the wrinkles ’round the eyes and the white in the vandyke and that I have a pelican neck, but the fucking glasses! Christ! I stopped really thinking about it at thirty, excpet I look better than I did when I was thirty. But the fucking glasses! Oy!

Oh I know it’s inevitable and to everything there’s a season (Ecclesiastes is one of the two books of the Bible I actually liked. That and Mark), but fuck you and fuck that. I think I was looking for something that gives character. All these frames did just that. Only I didn’t like the character they suggested.

I’m considering contacts, but the optical at work doesn’t cover them and I want to use that while I can. Soooo, its frames.

I am almost forty-one years old. I have never worn corrective lenses in my life. I’ve needed to, technically, for the last twenty years I think, but I’ve made it work. Looking up from the keyboard, I see the XXI of the Forever twenty-one store, the latest extension of our fetish with youth (another tangent to hit when the spirit comes to me, I’ll have to remember). I can make out the big XXI some forty feet away, and it’s not blurry but it’s not clear either.

Fuck.

Well, tomorrow is the appointment for the eye exam We’ll see what happens.

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One Comment

  1. Uh – remember now, son, that many of us are visually challenged (heh) and cannot afford that scary lazer thingy – or are getting too dry-eyed for comfortable wear of contacts…

    We are left with: glasses!! Over the past 45 years, I’ve worn some sort of corrective lens. I’ve done the Buddy Holly black frames, the little gold Lennon (or Lenin) look, the aviators of the women’s movement, the frame-less ones with wrap around ear pieces, the cat eyes (in baby blue, no less), the wierd off-set temples and google eyes of the eighties – and finally the innovative super-thin, ultra-light, gradual focus lenses of the new millennium. (No more coke bottle bottoms…)

    So thank your lucky stars that you get to choose your frames and lenses now as opposed to when you were in Jr. High. You’ll get that distinguished look (shopkeepers with glasses do tend to appear intelligent) and you’ll be able to see the world as it is!

    Try thinking of them as windows to the windows of the soul…


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