Thursday, June 28, 2012

I Went to the Optometrist

Folks, it has been a busy week.  Busy in a good way, but still, busy. After much procrastination, I finally went to the optometrist on Tuesday. I had cancelled and rescheduled my appointment at least five times because I did not want to get my eyes dilated. I detest getting my eyes dilated, because afterwards, I have to lay in a dark room for several hours and do nothing. If I try to read or watch television or do anything that requires SEEING, I get a headache and want to die. Napping is the only thing I can do, except I only nap when I'm sick. (I'd make a lousy Spaniard).

I scheduled my appointment for 5:30 p.m. to minimize the inconvenience of dilated eyes. Except all my procrastination was for nothing. My optometrist has a new machine that takes a photograph of my eyeball and eliminates the need for dilation. Seriously? I could have done backflips right there in the doctor's office, except I'm clumsy and cannot even do a cartwheel. 

The rest of my appointment went well. Aside from the damn dilation, I always enjoy my annual visit to the optometrist. There's something soothing about the ritual of testing which lenses help me see the most clearly. Also, my optometrist bears an uncanny resemblance to John Lithgow. It's unsettling. While he was telling me about my retina, I kept hearing, "She turned me into a newt... I got better." Just try keeping a sraight face while you are having Monty Python flashbacks.

Now that I have my new prescription, it's time for new glasses. Although I usually wear contact lenses, my eyes can be bitchy demanding divas and I often have to wear glasses all day (for example, today). This means I must always have a reliable pair of glasses on hand. My current pair is getting old and is entering the "we could snap in half without the slightest provocation" zone.  This cannot happen. When I was in the fifth grade, I broke my pink plastic glasses and had to keep them together with scotch tape. I was already a nerd, and my scotch-taped glasses did not help my sense of self-worth. Although my self-esteem has improved drastically since the dark days of middle school, I still don't want to drive a car on an L.A. freeway while wearing a pair of scotch-taped glasses.

The hunt for new glasses is on.  Stay tuned.