Hey, Four-Eyes!
Two weeks ago, as I mentioned in a previous post, I had my first eye exam in pretty much ever. Over the past year, my ability to resolve fine print has deteriorated noticeably. The only reason why I delayed the exam was to wait for work to implement its planned vision care benefit.
The exam itself was totally silly: the repeated requests to read an eye chart whose contents I easily memorized; the completely subjective comparison of different lens strength (is this one better or worse than the other?); the heinous regimen of eye drops and the absurdly dilated Powerpuff Girl eyes they left me with.
I can’t say I liked it, but then I’ve always been extremely squicky about eyes. I’ve always been a big swimmer, but I still refuse to open my eyes underwater. The eyes are very sensitive, and vision is just about the only thing I simply couldn’t live without.
The outcome was exactly as I expected: everything’s fine, except for a mild loss of near vision for small print, which means that after a lifetime of perfect vision, it is finally time for me to get reading glasses.
It’s ironic that my perfect vision is failing around the same time that two of my exes have had their extremely bad vision almost completely corrected with laser surgery. So in a strange twist of fat (sic), now they can see better than I can.
In laughable contrast to the exam was the ritual of selecting frames. Never having worn glasses before, I had almost no idea what I wanted. Meanwhile, the intern who did my exam and the office receptionist (both women) teamed up to run me through just about every set of frames in the building. It was like having a root canal done in one room, then stepping directly into a girly clothes-shopping spree in the next room: very dissonant.
I finally restricted the girls to just eight frames, then eliminated the ones that they liked that I didn’t, then picked the pair I thought looked okay and had the most reasonable fit.
Then yesterday I picked them up and had them adjusted. What do you think?