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.