One of the things I dread in life is going to the eye doctor. I haven't done it since high school, and let's just say...it shows. My glasses (which I use only for reading and extensive computer work) are embarassingly unstylish, and even worse, they're no longer doing their job. I still go to bed some days with blurry vision, because my eyes are so fatigued, they no longer operate. Bastards.
So I did the responsible thing, and made myself an appointment for this afternoon. I somehow made it through the paperwork at the beginning - the scariest part of the appointment, in my opinion. Even scarier than that damn puff of air. History of glaucoma? CHECK. Any family history of blindness? CHECK CHECK. Any cataracts in the family? CHECK CHECK CHECK. I literally ran out of room in which to write, and that's only my mother's side! Also, why is the typeset on those medical forms so incredibly tiny? I'm here because I CAN'T SEE, MORONS. What if my eyes stop focusing while I'm writing about the details on my genetic predisposition to ocular failure?! WHAT IF MY DOCTOR NEEDS TO KNOW MORE?! For all I know, I could go blind tomorrow. It's a crapshoot, really.
Which is why I allowed myself to be badgered into choosing new glasses while my eyes were fully dilated - here is a pic I took with my iPhoto Booth when I got home. This is two hours into a dilation that is still wearing off:
There will be no discussion of the unruly, caterpillar eyebrows, or the blotchy, PMS skin. I know. I need a wax and a facial - I get it. Moving along...
The worst part of it all? I still don't know what my glasses really look like, unless you count putting the dummy frames on and staring into a mirror that was so magnified I almost drowned in my own pores. Yes. No one can tell what a pair of glasses looks like when the blob of a face staring back at them is so fuzzy, it might not even have a nose and ears. Whatever.
I'm going to risk being unabashedly narcissistic about this, as my new eye doctor has informed me that I need to wear my glasses more often. Which means I should care about how they look on my face. So OF COURSE, I took the advice of the wildly unstylish op-tech (think unkempt, frizzy hair with white cardigan and teal colored ruffle dress) and the optic services tech, who was wearing pink frosted lipstick AND eyeshadow). I had no other choice.
I think this is closest to the pair I chose - let me know what you think.
I'll post a picture when I get them. Assuming they're somewhat flattering, of course. Otherwise, you'll just have to use your imagination.
So I did the responsible thing, and made myself an appointment for this afternoon. I somehow made it through the paperwork at the beginning - the scariest part of the appointment, in my opinion. Even scarier than that damn puff of air. History of glaucoma? CHECK. Any family history of blindness? CHECK CHECK. Any cataracts in the family? CHECK CHECK CHECK. I literally ran out of room in which to write, and that's only my mother's side! Also, why is the typeset on those medical forms so incredibly tiny? I'm here because I CAN'T SEE, MORONS. What if my eyes stop focusing while I'm writing about the details on my genetic predisposition to ocular failure?! WHAT IF MY DOCTOR NEEDS TO KNOW MORE?! For all I know, I could go blind tomorrow. It's a crapshoot, really.
Which is why I allowed myself to be badgered into choosing new glasses while my eyes were fully dilated - here is a pic I took with my iPhoto Booth when I got home. This is two hours into a dilation that is still wearing off:
There will be no discussion of the unruly, caterpillar eyebrows, or the blotchy, PMS skin. I know. I need a wax and a facial - I get it. Moving along...
The worst part of it all? I still don't know what my glasses really look like, unless you count putting the dummy frames on and staring into a mirror that was so magnified I almost drowned in my own pores. Yes. No one can tell what a pair of glasses looks like when the blob of a face staring back at them is so fuzzy, it might not even have a nose and ears. Whatever.
I'm going to risk being unabashedly narcissistic about this, as my new eye doctor has informed me that I need to wear my glasses more often. Which means I should care about how they look on my face. So OF COURSE, I took the advice of the wildly unstylish op-tech (think unkempt, frizzy hair with white cardigan and teal colored ruffle dress) and the optic services tech, who was wearing pink frosted lipstick AND eyeshadow). I had no other choice.
I think this is closest to the pair I chose - let me know what you think.
I'll post a picture when I get them. Assuming they're somewhat flattering, of course. Otherwise, you'll just have to use your imagination.
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