Glasses

So here’s a legitimate question for all my glasses-wearing readers; how long until you get used to having glasses as a permanent fixture on your face and in your life? 

I was prescribed glasses a few years ago, for reading at first. I had started to notice at night when I’d check my phone for text messages in the middle of the night,  that I could hardly read the screen. (Don’t judge, my husband worked late.) I thought it was because I was half asleep and even at the lowest light setting, in a dark room the screen was really bright. Then I  noticed when I was at work, looking from the computer screen to rows of numbers on spreadsheets and then up to the front of our reception area, my eyes didn’t seem to be focusing fast enough. Of course throw in some well-wishing from various acquaintances that “once you hit your 40s, your vision deteriorates,” and I figured I needed to see a doctor.

Feeling pretty excited to discover I had vision insurance through my work, off I went to make the acquaintance of a new medical professional, the local optometrist, well the local optometrist within my network obviously. Yay insurance networks. 

Had my eyes dilated and did all the tests where you read individual letters that diminish in size on a chart on the other side of the room and tell them which farmhouse at the end of a long road looks clearest while they changed the lenses of the machine I was looking through, lots of “Which looks clearer? This one?” Click, new lens slides into place. “Or this one?”

Then while they did their thing (figured out my prescription?)  I didn’t have to sit in a waiting room, conveniently,  I could just shop for a pair of frames in their extensive showroom. Of course, the most expensive, flattering frames were front and center and where a woman new to all this like myself naturally gravitated to.

It’s an age thing I was told. That’s OK, I’m happy to be living longer and I always wanted glasses anyway, I secretly thought they were cool. I used to have a pair of frames with plain glass in them that came with a Halloween costume that I would bust out and wear sometimes. Although like most things, they don’t work if you don’t use them, and remembering to take them with me and then actually put them on my face was quite a mission at first. 

Then because they were just for reading, I would have to take them off a lot or at least push them down my nose so I could see further away. I didn’t like that. It felt very granny-ish. Geez, I definitely wasn’t ready to feel granny-ish. Suddenly at an age where wearing my hair the wrong way or the wrong style of pants could add years and make me look well into my 50s (I am not well into my 50s btw), I found myself feeling self-conscious, and hyper-aware of these things on my face. Turns out having to wear glasses regularly is something I needed to work on, and it also turns out it’s a lot different from just putting on a pair for the fun of it and then taking them off when you’re sick of them. I still have the thing where I want people to see me without my glasses. Or more accurately, I want to see myself without glasses. 

So at my next optometrist appointment, they recommended progressive lenses, as my long-distance vision could also use some help. 

Again with the machine and viewing pictures of farmhouses at the end of long roads.

 As the picture slid into focus. I was surprised at how fuzzy around the edges my vision had become, especially for long-distance viewing. 

Good grief, I asked the nurse, is this how it is now? Every year needing a stronger and stronger prescription until I have thick glasses and squint without them? 

Not always, I was told with the reassurance easily offered by a 20-something-year-old nurse with perfect vision. 

Ok, no worries, I got those, and then I had to learn how to look through them correctly. 

Weird, learning how to look correctly meant tilting my head, not just moving my eyes, which is the thing I’d been doing my whole life without putting too much thought into it, now I had to retrain myself and the way I used my eyes. Oh, and being cognizant of where on my face the glasses were sitting. As apparently they are made to order according to the measurement of where your eyes track. I would like to take a moment to acknowledge that progressive lenses are an amazing feat of engineering allowing multiple vision fields to be incorporated into a single lens without any clear distinction in the glass.

Although I got used to them, I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. And surprised.

Why does nobody ever share the messy details of life’s moments? When I think of all the people I have ever known who have ever gotten glasses not one time did I ever hear anyone say – it’s kind of weird and takes some getting used to. 

I have heard people talk about macular degeneration, cataracts, and glaucoma – although as a kid I thought that glaucoma was going to be a bigger issue for me as an adult due to all the advertising about it at the time. But I’m not the person who encourages others to tell me about their health issues, which includes vision and dental stories, I would much rather hear about your pets, so there’s that.

Living longer surely demands more care of our bodies, or even just awareness of these vehicles and how they change and evolve. 

It’s funny because our spirits do not age, they are in us, they are us, and you often hear people say things like, “I don’t feel any different inside,” because the core essence of us, is always us. 

But, glasses. I am grateful I live in a society that has comprehensive health care for things like vision and dental, even if you do have to set up a payment plan to have those things taken care of. Not sure about hearing yet, I imagine that’s included. 

It also brings into focus (pun intended) one’s feelings about aging and appearance. Is this the point where people start to not care? Because I feel like I have to make a conscious effort every day to care for and about my body. Maybe it’s the desire to not be trapped in a vehicle that doesn’t work properly. Or vanity? Or comfort? Or a strong desire to continue to be able to read and write? Or all of the previous?

In our youth-obsessed culture, there are too many industries that want us to buy into the idea that youth is where it’s at. But the longer I live, the more I realize it’s not. Actually, the only thing you really have going for you is energy, which you waste a lot of. 

Sure you look great when you’re younger, even if you do not think so at the time, but I think it’s because we are so ignorant. We have no perspective and not much wisdom, and we make dumb mistakes (with enthusiasm), we set off chains of events for ourselves that have far-reaching consequences. Like years. Which is cool, I mean that’s living, isn’t it?

But I think we do ourselves and society a huge disservice by not glamorizing the years over 40, or at least letting younger generations know it’s pretty sweet. You know yourself better, you are accomplished in life and you’ve been around the block a few times (in a good way), you have self-confidence. And a lower tolerance for B.S. whereas previously in life you were more prone to letting people waste your time and energy, now it’s easy to say “No thank you, but thank you for asking.” Which feels amazing.

Even if you do need glasses to do it.