Four Eyes

Say it Rah-shay By Jun 24, 2011 No Comments

In which I write to enter a contest offered by Buy More Contacts at Uppercase Woman!
Or I want to win the iPad 2!

So. This post was just to be my entry for Cecily’s iPad 2 contest (pick me! Pick me!) but I have found that its turning into something else.

Now then:

My eyesight is bad. Really, really bad. Terrible. So messed up that when I take my glasses off I only see blurs in shades that are light or dark. I can only blame myself. When Buffy and I were in fifth grade she was having trouble seeing and was moved to the front of the classroom to sit nearer to the chalk board. At the time it seemed special; she and another kid with poor vision were allowed to be in the front right just out of the teacher’s line of sight. Eventually Mom took her to the eye doctor and in time she returned with a pair of glasses and the ugliest glasses case ever made (she said she felt sorry for it). No longer did we look just alike which was cool (imagine being called twin all of your life) and she had cool glasses to wear. She didn’t have to sit in the front of the classroom anymore but those plastic frames perched on her nose seemed to taunt me and caused me to make a decision that have had repercussions that have lasted to this day. The next time Mom took me to the ophthalmologist, I pretended that I couldn’t tell the difference between one and two and was eventually given a prescription for my own pair of plastic red framed glasses.

Proudly I wore my glasses, coordinating outfits, but one day my aunt encouraged me to get contact lenses. Mom was afraid; back in the late 80’s the idea of sticking something in your eye seemed foreign but after enough begging and pleading we were able to get the soft plastic lenses. The contacts were cool; no longer did I have to suffer from humiliating glasses tan lines! No longer was a subjected to slipping glasses as I ran and played. But truthfully… I was a lazy, trifling contact lens wearer. I would fall asleep with them on, forget to clean them, not let them disinfect long enough and on several fateful and painful occasions, I would attempt to wear them before the cleaning process was done.


Things got better and I had a routine in place when I was pregnant with The Bee. But the pain returned and I was unable to wear the contacts. For some reason they were so uncomfortable that before I could get out of the bathroom I was digging them out of my eyes and slapping my glasses back on. Eventually I gave up on the idea of wearing them and stuck with my glasses. Lately I have been feeling a tad frumpy and ready for a change. Waking and frantically searching for my method of sight have added to the decision also. I’ve changed my hair and thought I should sport a new look. I’m changing my outside and vainly want everything to be new. New way of thought, new look, new stuff. When I get thisclose to making a decision I wimp out and find excuses not to change. Money (natch!), time, but really its fear. My glasses allow me to hide. My little frames give me a comfort that I realize is familiar and known, unliked but sure. Contact are in my future but for now they are something that I think I want to keep as a goal, something I’ll work up to and somewhere further down the line of my journey to unfrumpiness. I’m going to get there soon but for now I’ll deal with glasses ’cause really, I look cross-eyed when I take pictures without my glasses.

Embracing my specs,


I am mom, daughter, sister, yarn lover, word lover, crazy cat lady and library chick. Find me with book or with hook and a hot cuppa.

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