Contact lenses for the brain
Today, I saw clearly for the first time in...what...24 years!...without the aid of glasses. I got my trial contact lenses in from the optician. Learning to put them in and take them out went pretty fast, but taking them out again this afternoon was a bit of an ordeal. I still have a touch of that eyeball-touching phobia. I can't feel the right lens at all once it's in, but the left one, the toric one for the astigmatism, doesn't feel like it fits quite right. Maybe it's just the way toric lenses feel, I have no idea. But everything looks nice and clear, so I'm happy.
Having corrected peripheral vision is weird. It seems like there's just more going on visually, so even though everything's sharp and clear, it looks a little surreal. The most distinct change, though, is a difference in depth perception. Things look more deeply textured, and things above and below my visual horizon look bigger than usual somehow, like the moon illusion, but with everything. The DVD cases on the top row at the video store looked as big as magazines, and my feet look considerably bigger too. I laughed about that for about 10 minutes straight when I noticed -- I must have looked like a loon, but really, looking at them, there was a sense that these do not look like my feet, yet they clearly are. Like the man who mistook his wife for a hat. Scott says "well, you know what they say, if your feet look bigger..." But I haven't checked yet.
I also haven't seen my own face clearly from more than a foot away in a mirror without glasses for 24 years. How's that for a mind-fuck? Turns out, I am so fucking handsome. Ok, I'm exaggerating, but it was an interesting sensation. My eyes look a bit bigger for one thing, but my face looks longer, so it evens out. I see more of my dad in my features than I'm used to seeing. (At least it's my dad when he was still a skinny sailor boy and not the beer-bellied, balding dad, as he was by the time he was my age. Having kids and a serious alcohol problem will do that to you, they say.)
One of the first things I did upon leaving the optician was to stop at a convenience store and buy a cheap pair of sunglasses off the rack by the cash registers. I've always wanted to do that. Now I can look cool in my cheap shades.
It's a funny thing, when I was younger, I didn't care much about my appearance and considered it superficial to spend much time worrying about it. It was really some kind of self-esteem mental block, I think. Slowly over the last several years or so, that's changed somewhat, and now when I look in the mirror, I honestly think I'm more attractive at nearly 35 than I was when I was 25. Not that I do much different now, although I do get more regular haircuts, make more of an effort to find flattering clothes, and watch my weight a little more closely. Of course, I don't know what my 25 year-old self would have to say, but fuck that guy. Actually, he was more attracted to 35 year-old men than other 25 year-olds too, so he'd probably agree. I'm even cool with the salt-n-pepa that's slowly taking over my whole head. It looks distinguished.
Having corrected peripheral vision is weird. It seems like there's just more going on visually, so even though everything's sharp and clear, it looks a little surreal. The most distinct change, though, is a difference in depth perception. Things look more deeply textured, and things above and below my visual horizon look bigger than usual somehow, like the moon illusion, but with everything. The DVD cases on the top row at the video store looked as big as magazines, and my feet look considerably bigger too. I laughed about that for about 10 minutes straight when I noticed -- I must have looked like a loon, but really, looking at them, there was a sense that these do not look like my feet, yet they clearly are. Like the man who mistook his wife for a hat. Scott says "well, you know what they say, if your feet look bigger..." But I haven't checked yet.
I also haven't seen my own face clearly from more than a foot away in a mirror without glasses for 24 years. How's that for a mind-fuck? Turns out, I am so fucking handsome. Ok, I'm exaggerating, but it was an interesting sensation. My eyes look a bit bigger for one thing, but my face looks longer, so it evens out. I see more of my dad in my features than I'm used to seeing. (At least it's my dad when he was still a skinny sailor boy and not the beer-bellied, balding dad, as he was by the time he was my age. Having kids and a serious alcohol problem will do that to you, they say.)
One of the first things I did upon leaving the optician was to stop at a convenience store and buy a cheap pair of sunglasses off the rack by the cash registers. I've always wanted to do that. Now I can look cool in my cheap shades.
It's a funny thing, when I was younger, I didn't care much about my appearance and considered it superficial to spend much time worrying about it. It was really some kind of self-esteem mental block, I think. Slowly over the last several years or so, that's changed somewhat, and now when I look in the mirror, I honestly think I'm more attractive at nearly 35 than I was when I was 25. Not that I do much different now, although I do get more regular haircuts, make more of an effort to find flattering clothes, and watch my weight a little more closely. Of course, I don't know what my 25 year-old self would have to say, but fuck that guy. Actually, he was more attracted to 35 year-old men than other 25 year-olds too, so he'd probably agree. I'm even cool with the salt-n-pepa that's slowly taking over my whole head. It looks distinguished.