Monday, February 19, 2018


I am 39 years old. Last week, I had to buy my first pair of glasses.

My parents both wear glasses. My dad since he was about six, and my mom after her teenage years. My sister started wearing glasses when she was a preteen. I think maybe she was in 6th or 7th grade? Since then, she has always hated the fact that I don’t need them. I would typically just laugh it off, or make fun of her for having to wear them, because, you know, sisters. I suppose that since everyone else in my entire family (aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc.) all wore glasses, she felt it was a bit unfair that I didn’t. I mean, glasses made others call her a geek in school, and the kids weren’t making fun of me for that.

But trust me, they were making fun of me for other reasons. It wasn’t because I was wearing glasses. I had my own struggles. “Dumbo” isn’t exactly what a small little frail girl with thin blonde hair, wanted to be called every day.

For the last few months, I’d noticed that I was having a hard time focusing my eyes on things that were small print. Seeing the tv from the couch, or the road while driving, was not an issue, but when I needed to read a text message that came through, or an article in a magazine, I would struggle to adjust my eyes to that small print. I would try holding the print farther from my face, but then I couldn’t see the little letters. It was beginning to frustrate me so much, that I made the print on my phone bigger, and avoided reading things with small print. I would intentionally hand it to someone else. I mentioned this to someone at work, and she told me to look into getting some reading glasses.

I immediately blew that off thinking I couldn’t possibly need glasses. I hadn’t needed them all these years. What makes someone that doesn’t know me, think they know what I need? She wasn’t a doctor.

Last week when I was shopping at Target, I walked through the pharmacy department and was stopped by the endcap that held reading glasses. It was as if there were huge arrows coming down from the ceiling pointing at this endcap. Was this really happening? Was I really standing there hoping to solve a recent problem I’d been experiencing? I was.

With all the willpower I could muster, I picked a pair off the peg, and put them on. Everything was blurry, until I pulled out my phone.


I couldn’t believe what was happening. I could see the little letters with no problem! It was as if I was looking through a magnifying glass. It was glorious! And relieving.

So, here I sit. I’m 39 years old, and I just bought my first pair of glasses. Here comes 40.

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