Back in the days when I had time to read - so much time, in fact, that I was reading for a living ... if you can call incurring thousands of dollars in student loans a living. Which, you know, you can't. So, uh ... yeah.
Anyway, back then, my eyes were on a steady diet of Chaucer and Virginia Woolf. It was grad school. It was an English lit program. I read. I read a lot. And my eyes forgot how to see far away.
So I wore glasses, and I kinda liked them. They gave me that sexy librarian vibe. Or so I thought. Possibly that was all in my head.
The glasses were a fleeting thing, though. I wore them for about three years, after which my eyes learned once again that life can happen at a distance.
Twenty years of nearly perfect vision later, I'm buying glasses again. See, about a month ago, give or take, I got lost. This is not unusual. I get lost so often that my sweet and thoughtful fellow got me a GPS for Christmas - one that talks to me from time to time just to remind me I'm driving, and believe me, the rest of you are grateful that it does. But this particular lostisode was pre-Christmas. Pre-GPS. What's worse, I knew where I was going. I didn't get lost because I was lost. I got lost because I missed my turn. And I missed my turn because I couldn't read the street sign.
So I went to the optometrist. I plonked down a ridiculous sum of money. And now I'm soon to be the proud owner of a brand spanking new pair of glasses that the much younger woman at the shop told me were fashionable but not flashy. I have no fashion sense. She smiled at me and said I looked great after saying a few times I didn't. So I decided to trust her.
You want to know the best part? They're bifocals. Or, rather, progressives, which is a nice, modern way of saying bifocals. Apparently I can't see close up, and I can't see far away. I can see in the middle, though. I guess that's something.
I don't feel like a sexy librarian anymore. I just feel old.
You think maybe they'll make them with rose-colored lenses?