Because approximately 15 minutes after I turned 40, my eye doctor told me I was going to need bifocals any second. And every year, I didn’t.
I wasn’t trying to hide my need to bifocals. Let’s face it–I’m not smart enough or motivated enough to try to figure out how to cheat on an eye exam. What is the point? Why get the exam in the first place if I don’t want to see better?
This year, it was obvious the time had come. And so the new frames were chosen and the lenses were ordered.
I go them this afternoon. And may I just say…
I want my single-vision lenses back!
What woman over the age of 40 wants to tilt her entire head down, mashing her chins into her neck rolls, all in order to look down? There’s no more quick flick of the eyes–I have to reposition my whole head to see anything.
A glance toward my feet results in blurred vision and a slight headache. If I’m going to have the blurred vision, I’d like to also have the tequila to cause it. (I guess that works for the headache portion as well.) Looking down is now like looking off the ledge of a tall building, somewhat dizzying.
And updating my prescription? Sure, I see better, but is that a good thing? All you people who claim to be my friends–you could have told me about the beard I’m apparently growing.
Yeah, the glasses look awesome and fit really well and I’ll be able to read menus without wishing my arms were longer. But Beloved Husband took about a minute to get used to his progressive lenses. I wanted that experience, not the step in front of a fun-house mirror.
I suppose I’ll adjust. Although I may need a margarita for comparison.