With One Foot On A Banana Peel

About four years ago I went for a routine visit to the eye doctor. He told me that he didn’t need to see me again until I turned 40. The better-half and I got a reminder letter that we should come in for a visit. All I could think was, “I’m not 40″, but then I got a grip and called for an appointment.

I went this afternoon and when we got to the conversation about looking at my retina, I said, with a great deal of glee, that I wanted the cool new way. The eye doctor professionally handled my geek-out and led me into the room with the new retina camera thingy (that’s a technical term). I got to see my optic nerve today and it looked really great–all red and spidery. Then, the optician took me into the glasses room.

Yes, with the constant reading I do all day long for work, school and play, I have to wear reading glasses. I have the slightest bit of prescription in them but basically, I’m getting old but not old enough to wear granny reading glasses. I was pretty adamant that I didn’t want to look like a dork or an old lady. The optician was amused and did a good job in picking frames that weren’t dorky or grandmotherly. I pick up the glasses next week. Unbeknownst to me the ones I picked are trendy, because I’m all about the trend, and they’ll have an anti-glare film on them so when people look at me they will see my eyes and not the reflected light.

The eye doctor thinks by correcting my eye strain that the glare I experience whilst driving at night will be cut down significantly. To which I should have replied, “We shall see.” I must go now and laugh myself silly.