New Glasses

 

My prescription is the same, but I haven’t changed my face for two years, at least. The most I’ve done is get contacts, which leaves the bridge of my nose and the spaces behind my ears feeling delightfully naked. But you always need glasses. Those mornings when I woke up with sore arteries in the whites of my all-seeing orbs, I was never so glad to sacrifice that liberating, naked feeling for sight. “Besides”, the optometrist’s assistant tells me, “glasses are in style.”

I feel like laughing at her ignorance of just how individualized I am, but I’m distracted by a pair of frames. My sister has been trying on a billion different pairs, which is what you do when you get your first pair. I advise her to choose a color to contrast with her constantly bleached hair.

I think of every pair I’ve suffered through since first grade. They are all somewhere among the clutter of my desk drawers, which hold everything from drawings I made as a child to empty alcohol bottles that I hide from my parents. I hated my glasses before. Nose pads never seem to stay in place, and lenses popped out at the least opportune times. If you’re a lucky four-eyed child, the cheap metal your frames are made of won’t turn green or black like mine did. My plague of parentally influenced eyewear has paid off, though. I have learned to stick with plastic, something nonadjustable; something that can stand up to having the arms chewed on during a most lamentable night of homework. I’ve learned to shy away from metallic and stick with a basic black. It does wonders for my eyes as well as the rest of my figure.

Of the hundreds of frames surrounding me, I know which ones are wide or thin enough to fit me properly. I know what will go with everything I wear, and what will make me want to remain isolated for fear of ridicule. I circle back to the first pair that caught my attention, not having tried on anything else with an ounce of seriousness. They’re perfect. My vanity boils over at the very moment that I see my reflection in the mirror. “I want these.”

Sometimes, I’m almost tempted to thank God for astigmatism.

Reviews

[Mark D. Chevalier]

Lol...what a delightful piece this is Penny. I can certainly share your feelings in this matter. I've been offered lasic, but I just have a real problem with folks messing with my eyes. Oh well, some people are afraid of spiders so I suppose its alright. Great work! I enjoyed the mental boost this work gave me.
Mark

[darkmusicbaby88]

I love this. It makes something so mundane seem so unique and interesting. I really enjoyed it. The point of the poem No names...no attachments is that the woman knows she is lying to herself she is just to stubborn to deal with her issues,but I will so take the vibrator! LOL