What do your glasses say about you?

This past week, I got new glasses.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to like them. Like always, at the eye doctor, they prefer to put those little drops in your eyes. You know the ones. The ones where you’re pupils get as big as your head and the once glorious sun is now a blinding mass of white glare? Some people know them as the dilation drops. My migraines and I prefer to call them drops of pure evil. 

Anyway, after these evil drops were placed in my eyes they take my hand and guide me to a wall of what I’m told is frames to sort through. I only assume that’s what they are because at this point my eyes are so blurry I have to stare at things for long amounts of time to start to make out what they are. I can only imagine I look creepy with a blank stare and cheesy grin on my face as I stupidly attempt to decipher the blurs in front of me.

Grabbing a few frames and trying them on I’m met with critique as the optician attempts to help me choose the right pair. Providing valid points about size, shape and how unusually large my head is. Ok, I’m the one that comments on my head size every time I get new glasses, but it’s true. I have a big head. Many frames are dwarfed by my head size, which makes it difficult to choose a frame, even when I don’t have the drops of full sun prying my irises open as far as possible.

To make it worse I wear bifocals. I’ve had bifocals since I was in my early twenties. I have some weird condition where my lenses don’t want to refocus when I’m looking from a screen back to paper or something. I don’t know what it is exactly even though I should. Instead I clumsily explain it to eye experts and they immediately know what I’m talking about then rattle off some medical term. I have suspicions they make it up because it sounds brand new to me every time I hear it.

So, now I’m looking for a frame, while I’m practically blinded by light and blur, needing something big enough for my large head and to support bifocals, while still attempting to look like a normal human being.

Every time I’m about ready to give up because I’ve tried on every pair of frames with no luck, at least from the feedback I’m given, then I squint into a narrow, little mirror squeezed into a gap between the sections of the wall of frames and I think something looks normal. I could be wrong. Blur and glare have a tendency to obstruct perception. I swear I caught a glint of something streak down the opticians cheek. Was that a tear?

“It’s perfect! It’s the right size, perfect for bifocals and your cheeks don’t lift them up when you smile!” Yes, that’s another concern I have to deal with when choosing frame, chubby cheeks getting in the way.

I had my opticians stamp of approval, I just wish I could see these suckers on my face before I ordered them!

Stumbling over to where my husband was I asked him if he liked them. He promptly concurred they were perfect for my face. I promptly called him a liar. He had the evil drops of sun attractant in his eyes too. He couldn’t see them any better than I could.

So, I ordered them. Extremely expensive, and I left extremely grateful for our vision insurance, yet again.

This past week, I got the call that they were in.

I arrived excited and a bit nervous. What had I picked out?! Does everyone go in to pick up glasses with this kind of anxiety?

The optician handed me the new glasses. I placed them on my face and couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes.

I couldn’t sit there forever like that, so I took a deep breath and glanced at the mirror.

OMG! They’re perfect!!! They capture my personality perfectly!

 

I’m a bit nerdy, with a little bit of style. They’re somewhat bright and colorful with a hint of a neutral look upon first glance.  They say I love to read, but not all the time. Ok, all the time. They show you my eyes, which is important because I frequently smize. Smizing is important. You know, smiling with your eyes. I’m good and creepy at it too, with a side of inviting.

I don’t know how they did it, but they guided me, blurred vision and all, into picking out the perfect pair of glasses for me to show off who I am today.

If kissing your optician was socially acceptable I might have done it. Ok, maybe I did…

Picking out the perfect frames can be hard, but when you get the right pair they can tell volumes about who you are as a person. What do your glasses say about you? I shared my story with you, I’d love to hear yours in the comments below.