… at men who wear glasses.
For cryin’ out loud in a bucket – could I possibly be acting more vain?
The advancing years, long hours working with small machined parts, long hours of staring at computer screens, and general decrepitude, and apparently everything else except masturbation have conspired against my eyesight, which, until recently, used to be better than 20/20. Over the past six or eight months, I’ve noticed the fine print getting finer, and the little details becoming fuzzier, and not long ago I realized that just sitting at my desk staring at a blueprint the numbers were fuzzy – but it wasn’t because of the fax machine, it was because of my eyes. Sitting, they looked fuzzy, but when I stood up they were sharp.
So I steeled my reserve, and made the call to the eye doctor.
Sure enough, my close-up vision needed correction. After 49 years of making a spectacle of myself, I now needed spectacles for myself.
The optometrist was conveniently located next door to a well-known eyeglass chain, so I walked over to look at the choices. Never having contemplated wearing glasses in the past, I now was faced with a huge array of possibilities – not unlike being very hungry and stopping at one of those all-night diners with the 17 page menus. Fortunately, I had several hours before they closed. I called Mrs. Edge to meet me, and started narrowing down the field. The poor saleswoman, hoping that a nice conservative gentleman would make quickly make a choice suddenly realized that I was one of those customers from hell. Nope, these are too nerdy. Nope, these are too big. Nope, too faddy. No, too flimsy. No, the lenses are too big. Ugh, do people still wear those big plastic frames? No, the “aviator” look is great for sunglasses, but not for wearing with a suit. No, bright blue or red frames will not make me look younger. . . Well, you get the idea.
By the time that Mrs. Edge arrived, I had narrowed it down to three pairs. One had round lenses, giving me a pronounced “professorial” look. Since some of you already have me pegged with that adjective, I thought they could work for me. Mrs. Edge looked at me for a moment and said “They make you look like an old Harry Potter.”
Okay, scratch the round ones.
The next pair were a nice titanium frame with oval-ish lenses. I looked at myself in the mirror for a good five minutes, feeling rather foolish as I tried to imagine how they would look with a suit. I turned to Mrs. Edge, who by this time had wandered over to the sunglasses. “Yeah, those are okay.” Just okay? “Yeah, okay.” They don’t set off my eyes, make me look cute, dashing, smart, anything? Just okay? “Yeah, just okay.”
Damn.
I suddenly realized what “look” that I was hoping for: You know the stereotype of the staid, conservative librarian, who takes off her glasses as she lets down her hair and becomes sexually alluring? I was trying for the manly version of that. Assuming that there is such a thing.
Yeah, like I said at the beginning: vain.
The last pair were a gun-metal grey with the half-frame design. They actually seemed more comfortable on my face, so I stared in the mirror for another five minutes. It’s a good thing that we were next to the eye doctor because Mrs. Edge had developed a case of uncontrolled eye rolling. “Hey, those are nice.” Really? You’re not just saying that? “No, I like those. Here’s a similar pair; try these on, too.” I swapped back and forth between similar designs, and settled on the ones that I originally had picked.
The saleswoman and Mrs. Edge, both sighing with relief, herded me quickly toward the adjustment counter where another associate took measurements and made adjustments and presented me with the bill, which I could unfortunately read all too well. “It’ll take about two weeks, Mr. A,” she explained. Two weeks? What about your sales pitch that says “glasses in about one hour”? “Oh, yours are a special prescription; you’re getting ‘progressive’ lenses.” I bit my tongue against the obvious joke about the political philosophy of my glasses, and paid the bill.
I have this pet peeve. Why is it that when a business has you fill out forms and asks for the best way to contact you, they invariably call your home phone number and leave a message? I specifically pointed out on the form that they should call my cell phone. After more than two weeks I called them to see when they would be in. Naturally, they had called the other day and left a message on the home machine that I never heard.
Anyway, I went to pick them up this afternoon. A different sales associate was there to fit them to my face. I asked about care, and she told me that it would be no different from my other glasses.
Excuse me, this is my first pair. Ever.
“Really?” she said in amazement. She assumed that pretty much everybody “my age” had been wearing them for some years.
So, we bent and adjusted them until they fit comfortably, and I walked out of the store, turning my head from side to side to get accustomed.
Then I spotted the mirror.
I tried to be nonchalant, but I’m sure they noticed me checking myself out. I just hope I didn’t come off as too conceited. It’s unbecoming for we librarian types, you know.
And yes, you can see me make a spectacle of myself. I’m behind the link.
