At one time I had 20/15 vision. Of course, at one time I also had a 32 inch waist, a full head of hair and delusions of grandeur that frankly, were completely unwarranted. I guess it's only natural for a 44 year old to wax nostalgic about the past.
But, that's not why we're here today. And today is different. Because today I am officially a glasses-wearer-- there ought to be a better name for someone who dons spectacles. Especially now that I'm in the club.
Never thought it would come to this. As a kid I could see road signs on the horizon that my family couldn't see. I'd tug on my father's shoulder and...
"Look there's a Dairy Queen three miles up ahead."
"Sit back and shut up. Before I make you."
Having great eyesight was always one of my best physical attributes. On a list that's embarrassingly short. It was wedged in there with Inordinately-sized Roman Aqualine Nose and Sturdy Beer-Barrel Physique.
Not that I'm complaining. There can be no doubt that I have somehow been blessed with superhuman good health. The only night I ever spent in a hospital was my first night on Earth. With clean living and a ruthless devotion to the P90X and Body Beast programs, I hope to avoid hospitals for as long I can.
The current vision challenge is not entirely new.
Years ago my reading ability had started to fall off. Words on the page, and on the computer, seemed softer. Fuzzier. Squinting helped but it all became painfully crystal clear when at a local deli and, having read the menu wrong, I found myself in front of a plate of braised brisket, not BBQ brisket which I thought I had ordered. I hate braised meat and believe it brings great dishonor to the animal in question.
And so the collection of cheap drugstore-bought reading glasses began. They were all over the house and seemed to breeding faster than Viagra-fed bunnies. These reading glasses came in all different shapes and sizes. Some you could twist. Some you could bend. Even some you could fold, stuff in an ingenious plastic case and attach to your keychain. I still have those and they rank among my most prized possessions. Another embarrassingly short list that we can discuss on another day.
Interestingly, the reading glasses also come in ascending magnification powers. Which not surprisingly, were in direct proportion to my age. At 40, I could get by with the .75's. By the time I reached 44, I was at the highest magnification level. Wearing them, I can see the teensy tiniest of objects. I swear I can see molecules and atoms. Most ironically, I can wear these Superman super-strength magnification readers to fix and replace those minuscule little screws that bond the lenses to the eyeglass frames.
Now, like an iPhone 4S from 2013, these reading glasses serve too little purpose. I was still able to read and write (that's unfortunate for all my friends on social media) but I was having difficulty see off into the distance. And by distance, of course I mean I couldn't see which teams were playing on my flatscreen TV.
Hence, a terrifying trip to the Opthamalogist, who poked and probed my cornea with some horrific cornea-poking machine, The Kayatsu Mishamoto Pokeatron 9000.
This was followed by an even more terrifying trip to the eyeglass store. Where, they seemed to be speaking a new language -- a language known only to eyeglass wearers. Moreover, there were stylistic choices to be made. Being well aware of my aesthetic challenges, my wife offered to accompany me. I declined her offer, knowing it could turn into a major battle -- A NoseBridge Too Far.
I put on my big boy pants and went and bought my old man glasses.
And no, my wife did not laugh at my selection.
And no, neither did my daughters.
And no, I'm not going to post a picture of myself wearing them.
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