Oh Where, Oh Where Have My 18 Pairs of Reading Glasses Gone?

Reading glasses suck.

I realize that use of the word “suck” is not becoming, because a) it implies that I have no intelligence, b) implies that I have no class, and c) the word is greatly overused.  I also realize that eyeglasses cannot actually suck.  In fact, I’m a far better reader/writer with them than without them.  And things could always be worse if I were to look at the glass as being half full.

But having to depend on reading glasses is no picnic.  Keeping a pair on hand at all times is challenging.  Trying to find a pair of those elusive glasses just to read a text message from my starving daughter that says “Mom! Help!  I’m out of lunch moneyyyy!!!” is annoying.  And the fact that there’s just no way to make a pair of granny glasses fashionable or flattering is frustrating.

So I’ve decided that the word “suck” is quite appropriate here.

My disdain for glasses goes back quite a few years.  I was plugging along in life quite nicely until I was diagnosed with a lazy eye when I was 15.  You can probably guess that this big discovery occurred at the DMV–on the big day that I was supposed to be getting my driver’s permit.  The scary lady at the DMV made me place my forehead on that big scary vision contraption and read the appropriate line.  I did so, yet she insisted there was more.  I insisted that there was not more.  We had reached a stand-off, and the scary DMV lady got the last word.

Scary DMV lady did not smile like this.

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