Eye Surrender

This is me wearing glasses.  "So what? I know you wear glasses," you snip at me.  Stop snipping at me!  It is too early in the morning! Ahem...

Let's try this again:

This is me wearing glasses.  Okay, I know you already know I wear glasses.  Yes.  But these aren't my regular glasses.  See, because these are ... READING GLASSES!!

I bit the bullet.  I surrendered to the fact that these days I have to extend my arms to read anything I am holding in my hands.  And I walked into that Duane Reade, my head held up high (because I couldn't read the sign over the door - KIDDING), went straight to the back where they HIDE all the reading glasses, and spent about 20 minutes in front of the pharmacy counter trying on different frames with different strengths.  I had every intention of rocking a funky pair of specs, because I figure if I have to wear something on my face, I want it to be worth looking at.  But in the end, I chose these very reserved frames because the snazzy specs all made me look like a librarian.  And not the high-school boy fantasy kind of librarian whose sex appeal is just simmering beneath the surface and all it would take is one glance over the bridge of her glasses and one loose bobby pin causing a cascade of shimmering hair down her back to turn the American male population into avid readers.  No, the back-in-the-day, stereotypical "Ssh. Be quiet, this is a library," mousy kind of librarian with gray hair, a wool sweater, and a slight curve in her back from years of stooping down to stack books in alphabetical order.  As if the fact that I am spending the afternoon in the drugstore trying on reading glasses isn't sobering enough, I don't need to look like a librarian from back in the day.  Who was probably very nice and even a riot once she loosened up, don't get me wrong.  But you know what I mean.  These reading glasses are not rose-colored.  I am 43 years old.  And the 40s are not the new 20s, by the way.  Reading glasses in your 20s means you are farsighted.  Reading glasses in your 40s means you are getting old(er).

Oddly enough, I was excited to try out my new readers (that's what I am calling them).  I sat down to a late solo lunch and pulled them out along with the latest book I am reading, but couldn't get the plastic, hanging tag from the store off of them (LOSER).  So, I waited until I got to work, slipped my readers around my neck on a gold string necklace, and got so excited when a fellow cast mate asked me to read an email on his cell phone.  Did I mention that I just found out 2 weeks ago that I am only 3 years younger than this cast mate's mother!  Okay?  Okay?!  But, I digress.  I mocked dismay at the fact that I now had to wear reading glasses, which I pointed out to EVERYONE, because I am melodramatic that way.

On the way home, I ran into my Dad.  I showed him my new readers, which he admired, until I told him that I purchased them at a Duane Reade.  He promptly advised me to stay away from the drugstore reading glasses and get prescription reading glasses because he found it harder for the eyes to adjust between near distance and far distance vision when wearing the drugstore glasses.  Great, now I'll have to pick out glasses all over again, and for more money this time!  Maybe I can order some with rose-colored lenses.