Last week I took a little trip to the optometrist so I could stare aimlessly at a bunch of super-sized letters on a wall and not be able read ANY of them; then leave feeling old and depressed.
I did leave minus the totally rad paper sunglasses for the old school eye dilating thanks to the wonders of technology.
Snaps for modern medicine.
So, my eyesight has been gradually dwindling over the last few years. It's rather disappointing because up until the end of high school I had stellar vision. I'm talking superhero sight. It was wonderful and useful for spotting road signs, the faces of random people waving at you and Sonics. Then my powers started dwindling and a few years ago I faced the music and settled for some glasses that I wore as needed for seeing far away. And now those as needs have become more permanent.
Think blonde Tina Fey, only taller and not as funny.
So since I'm not digging the glasses thing I decide I'm going to join the contact club. Now there is only a minor setback here and it's that I don't touch my eyeballs. EVER. I can't even stand to watch my husband touch his own eyeballs putting in his contacts. If you're thinking this is hopeless, then you would not be alone.
I was also a bit naive going into this appointment thinking they would just hand me a pair of contacts and I could practice with them in the comfort of my own home. Nope. There's a code and you have to apparently master getting contacts in and out 101 before they set you free all while the world in the lobby pretends to be reading "Good Housekeeping" but instead watches you. No pressure.
After about 30 minutes I'm thinking the Fey look isn't so bad. This was also about the time two teenagers have joined the flock of contact advice strangers yelling out "you can do it", "it's just like riding a bike" and a very vocal receptionist repeatedly yelling out "just grab those lashes like so and shove it in".
Oh I'm sure it was a sight... if I could have seen it.
Then with only the grace of God I got one in and out.
And we applauded & cheered.
I parted ways with my hodge-podge of cheerleaders and thanked them for the moment we just shared.
And now a week later I have yet to get these darn contacts back in my eyes.
I'm a lost contacts cause.
I will master this.