I’ve just been for my annual check up with the optician and bought a chocolate bar on the way home to help ease me in gently to a new stage in my life.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fortunate in that I’ve had no real MS eye-related problems, apart from one inexplicable period when I used to wake up half blind, but thankfully it was short-lived.
Anyway, a small, dark room. Just me and the optician and my head in a strange contraption where he blew puffs of air into my eyes.
When he eventually turned the lights back on and I blinked a lot, he asked if I wore glasses.
‘Yup, they’re somewhere around, the cat used to play with them.’
‘I think you should find them.’
Well, all sorts of things went through my mind and I braced myself for bad news. I gulped hard and asked, ‘erm, why?’
He sighed. Oh dear.
‘Well, you see, you’re 41. You’re getting old.’
Gah.
I protested feebly that I wasn’t that old, but he patiently explained (possibly in a special voice reserved for the older clientele) that at my age, my eyesight would naturally deteriorate and it had already begun. Lovely.
Back at home, I eventually found the glasses in a dusty corner. After cleaning them off I gave them a test run and sat in front of the computer. Ok. So maybe I could see the screen a bit better. I looked in the mirror. Ok, so maybe I could see my pores in a little more clinical definition. Hmm. Hair up or down? Messy ponytail or severe scraped-back-semi-facelift bun? At this point, The Teenager came crashing through the door unexpectedly early (he knows no other entry mode) and sniggered when he saw me.
‘Bit early for Hallowe’en? What’s for dinner? Starving.’
‘The optician says I’m getting old so I have to wear them. So there.’
‘Like, dur, I could have told you that for free, saved you some time (more sniggers). I’m gonna faint, so hungry.’
I was about to launch into a speech about respecting elderly people but he’d scarpered.
I made a cup of tea and had a little ponder, trying to look on the bright side. My glasses might make me look more intelligent. I could look even more like an anguished writer when I haunt cafes with my battered notebook. I could own this look.
I vowed to start growing old disgracefully. But first I had to sort out the MS cog fog as I had no idea where I’d left them.
Just a bit of info:
In Tanzania if you wear glasses everyone thinks you’re intelligent.If you read (and learn) a lot your eyes go bad. I discovered that when I went there about 25 years ago to study the ilimba (we might call it a thumb piano in the west.)
That’s just the kind of info I need on a gloomy Saturday afternoon!! I will now wear my glasses with pride 🙂 Thank you!
X
So for your next interview/book you have to have the scarf, the billowy sleeves AND be casually sucking on one leg of the glasses. Artistic, stereotype perfection. I too need to dig the glasses out of the car glovebox (meant to use them for driving but can’t say I notice a difference. Labels on food are of course getting smaller.
I think that might be a good idea! I think glasses will add a bit of mystique to my moon-face 🙂
As for labels, meh. Shampoo bottles are particularly hideous and most are impossible to squeeze either.
x
A friend of mine…..yes we’re at that age now……glasses! said that he found it helpful to have them on when eating. What really made me laugh was the comment he makes to his colleagues when sharing his interpretation of the numbers, in THE spreadsheet (on the computer screen at the accountancy firm he works for), WHEN HE HASN’T GOT HIS GLASSES ON …..quote unquote……”That looks OK’
Cavalier Attitude
Always good to have a cavalier attitude!
I’m still reluctant to wear my glasses – they just feel so, well, heavy. I’m going to keep trying though, especially after today when I squinted hopelessly at the label on a jar of Thai curry sauce, meh.
x