My daughter finally scored the reading glasses she has wanted so badly. The trip to the eye doctor was met with the same manic enthusiasm as a school holiday. She spent a crazy amount of time selecting the the perfect pair of kid-size frames with Easy Twist technology. And where else but the optometrist can a tween try on Versace, Dolce & Gabbana, and Dior?
My story was the opposite - a long-term disaster. Boy-crazy at an early age, I was also precociously vain. (Looking back, maybe my parents were aware of this and bribed the doctor, because what a scary combination.) In any case, both those predispositions ran head-on into Third Grade Glasses and drama the likes of which I have only witnessed, um.....with my daughter.
No way on the highway was Loren - the short, dark & handsome boy who sat in front of me going to grow up and marry a girl with glasses! Not only could I suddenly see well, I could see into the future. He would fulfill his singular dream of becoming a long-haul truck driver and now some other girl - one who wasn't cursed with bad eyes -would win his roaming heart and wave him off each week as he took to the road. I cried myself to sleep the day we picked up those humongous brown spectacles. It was a life sentence that not even a "celebration" dinner at Red Lobster could fix.
Fast forward to the present on a late evening when I've succumbed to the irritation and traded my scratchy contacts for super-chic BCBG frames and we have an episode of late night emotional upheaval, which seems to materialize when she has reached the titration point with her diabetes. I try to remember how the perceived curse of my bad eyesight made me feel - isolated, different, not as cute - and remember that what she is dealing with is so, so much worse. I cannot imagine having to deal with something like this in the 5th grade and beyond.
Thank God she thinks glasses are a treat. (And yes, his name really was Loren and he really wanted to be a truck driver.)
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