The last time I had to wear glasses (so as to, you know, legally drive and not kill people or maim myself and see colors and shapes) during inclement weather was circa 2000. It took years for me to shed the trauma that was rain-drenched glasses and the impending steam upon entering a room.
But a little while back, I called the Eye Institute of Utah and made an appointment to see some eye surgeon who would look at my eyeballs and determine whether or not I was a good candidate to be shot in the face with lasers. I suppose the final straw was losing my glasses temporarily (and that one contact lens, which I swear to you, I still haven’t come across
and we don’t vacuum that often.)
It’s not like I actually want eye surgery. I don’t want anyone clamping down my eyelids for any reason (I’m pretty sure I saw that in an episode of “Criminal Minds” once, and it scarred me for life.) I don’t want lasers being shot into my retinas. But I also don’t want the body of a 90-year-old or facial hair, and life has proven to me that I’m not going to always get my way. You’re welcome about that facial hair thing.
Anyhow, back to glasses in the rain.
When I made said appointment, a very nice lady told me I’d have to go sans contact lenses for a week prior. Because apparently contact lenses leave residue on your eyes (another tidbit of information I could have gone the rest of my life without), and the highly skilled doctors of the world apparently don’t have vivid enough imaginations to, you know, PRETEND LIKE THE RESIDUE ISN’T THERE. So, beginning last Thursday night, I took out a perfectly good set of contact lenses, placed them into some Opti-Clean, and prepared myself for what was to come.
Glasses suck. The only people who have successfully deluded themselves into thinking glasses are awesome are hipsters who either wear glasses without any lenses in them or glasses with lightweight plastic lenses. For those of us who wear actual, real-life glasses, the novelty is completely gone.
Case in point
My vision is so bad that I can’t really stand farther than one inch from my bathroom mirror to apply my makeup.
The handle of my foundation brush is about seven inches long.
You can see my dilemma.
Another case in point
My most recent short haircut isn’t glasses friendly at all, but of course I didn’t realize that when I got it. The only solution I’ve come up with, to avoid the inevitable “fa-winnnng” of my sideburns (you know exactly what I’m talking about and don’t try to deny it) is to aerosol hairspray my glasses into my hair.
That’s a real thing. I’m actually doing that every day.
So, I’ve preemptively made the executive decision, regardless of whether my eyes are actually good candidates, that the Eye Institute of Utah may bore holes into my brain with their lasers. They can clamp my eyelids back and make me temporarily blind and ruin my morning come January or February or March or April or whenever it is that I get the gumption to actually go through with this Godforsaken procedure all so I don’t have to wear glasses ever again for the rest of eternity.