April 10

The long & short of it

It has finally happened. I have reached the age where strangers think I am giving them dagger eyes (or, as my 14-year-old self called them, ‘evils’) when all I am actually trying to do is focus slightly my myopic eyes to work out whether or not I know them. Once upon a time, I could pick out a casual acquaintance a mile off. I took pleasure in showing off during my driving test by identifying not only the licence plate I was being asked to read, but also the one in the car park across the road. Oh how the mighty fall. An adolescence of reading far too many books by torchlight, a decade of staring at a monitor all day, and the inherited eyes-of-a-bat from my parents (one hugely short sighted, one long – damn shame they didn’t even out) have taken their toll and I now need glasses. For the first few days after this official notification I was reluctant to embrace my new status as a wearer of face-furniture. Another thing to remember as I leave the house in the morning? Another thing I can potentially break/lose/damage in the rough and tumble of daily life? But then a wise (very wise) friend pointed out one, irrefutable, advantage to my new situation: “Needing glasses is brilliant – it’s like a whole other area of your person to accessorise!”


You may also like

{"email":"Email address invalid","url":"Website address invalid","required":"Required field missing"}