So finally hubby decided to go and get his eyes tested as he has had enough of not being able to see properly when he reads.
Personally, I don’t think he sees well all round as I have witnessed him walking into doorways twice here in the last couple of days.
It prompted me to go in and get my eyes checked too as I am tired of having to hold my books between my toes, and the kids are getting sick of me asking them to read the ingredient labels on foods.
It is a momentous thing for me, to admit that I need glasses.
I know, I know, people of ALL ages sometimes have to wear them but for me it’s just another one of those chapters in life.
The realisation that I am not in CONTROL of my body and that no matter what aging is something I am forced to do.
I felt really uncomfortable at the optometrist place….It’s so stark in there…BRIGHT, clinically white with shiny surfaces and mirrors everywhere.
ET alert. “Bright light! Bright light!”
I cannot stress enough my aversion to bright light.
The ladies were lovely, bubbly and happy. (Of course they are, they want to steal our money.)
There was one guy working in there who looked seriously like the incredible hulk.
I mean HUGE Popeye arm muscles positively bulging out of this white short sleeved shirt.
He looked out of place there.
What sort of incredible hulk works with people who need glasses? He looked better suited to working in a fancy gym surrounded by the smell of testosterone and sweaty scrotum’s.
I don’t like that pumped full of steroid look.
Why do people do that to themselves?
It’s completely NOT sexy to me.
Reminds me of a documentary I watched once called “The man who’s arms exploded!” I can’t get that vision out of my head now and make it a point to stand well clear of anyone who looks like they might have a bicep explosion brewing.
I way prefer to see a naturally sculpted look on a man that simply says, I work hard using my body outdoors, sweating in the sun, being fit and active in normal NATURAL ways, not hyped up on steroids sitting on a bench press posing in front of the mirror at the gym with all the other posers.
Anyway, he was not an integral part of my optometrist experience. I just happened to noticed him sitting bulging away at his desk there.
The lovely bubbly ladies did all the eye testing, chirruping away as they did so, trying to make me feel relaxed and happy about the experience, which I was not, really. A bit grumpy about it if I’m honest.
They tried to make me feel better by explaining in great detail that it’s got nothing to do with muscles….lack of muscle tone in my eyes. No amount of exercise will fix FAILING DEGENERATING GETTING OLD eye lenses, they said (Nicely, but I know what they meant!)….Which is a relief. At least one part of my body doesn’t require a workout.
They used soothing phrases like…”to help your eyes”. But….”Still let your eyes do the work”.
Made it seem as though these reading glasses were not like a wheelchair, but more like a walking stick – if you get my meaning.
My eyes need “assistance” basically, to stop from going cross eyed whenever I look at something less than thirty centimetres from my face.
It took me less than thirty seconds to choose a frame for my new reading glasses.
The bubbly lady looked astonished. Hell, I don’t view them as a fashion accessory! I won’t be wearing them OUT, like some proud badge.
I chose them from the 50% off rack.
I could have been even cheaper and got something from the pairs right at the end for the scabby folk, for $39 but I’d like them to last longer than a week.
That’s if I don’t lose them before then.
So, in a slightly depressed mood I stood at the counter while she happily rang up the total bill for our new “eye assistants” while I quipped that now I needed to go and buy a tartan pull along shopping trolley, polyester slacks and book myself in for a mauve perm.
So, in about a week’s time my husband and I will don our new glasses and see each other in high definition.
Won’t that be a treat.
(Guess I’ll have to shave my legs!)
It’s a crappy thing…this getting old business.