I knew the day was coming. The fuzzy letters on the computer screen, the amount of squinting required to read road signs, and driving at night… well, let’s just say there were some close calls. Yet, I put it off as long as I could. And against my better judgement, everything I’ve ever used to guide my moral compass, I acquiesced.
…I went to the eye doctor.
“Well, you’re legal to drive,” optometrist said to me as he flashed a bunch of different lenses in my face after reading a few lines in front of me.
“Well, that’s good news,” I thought to myself.
“Looks like you have a stigmatism.”
A stigmatism? A stigmatism!?
I had heard of these stigmatisms and society’s view of them. The goofy looks people constantly give me, how they start talking slow just to get me to understand stuff… you know, discriminatory type of stuff we’re talkin’. And then I got to thinkin’. There’s a legitimate stigma against stigmatisms! No wonder I’ve had all this prejudice against me lately.
…But I had to know for sure, and I had a bad feeling about this.
“So, what does that mean, doc?”
“I’m going to prescribe a pair of glasses for you. I want you to wear them at all times.”
Glasses… at all times? Are you freaking kidding me?!
I couldn’t believe it. My heart sunk. And who could blame me? 32-years glasses free can mess with someone’s ego—big time. Just think about all those years I spent looking down upon my fellow man with a height of superiority. And now, it turns out that I’m no better than the rest… back to square one.
“Well, maybe it isn’t so bad,” I told myself. “There are plenty of people with glasses. My boss wears them all the time, and he’s a good guy. The dude from U2 is always sporting them, and he’s always walking around with a nice swagger to his step. And Justin Walker—he’s like the coolest guy I know!”
There were others though… like that Paul Krugman jerk. God, he thinks he’s so smart. Or that other lame-o that runs the Republicans, Mitch McConnell. Good God, what a dork! There’s plenty of em’, all smug and corny-lookin’.
And what about the ones are still glasses-free? “What’s Gibson gonna think? Surely, he’ll have a comment or two about it. And Ulrich… talk about a giant pain in the ass. For God’s sake, Ben Woodward doesn’t even wear glasses! Don’t tell me I’m going to be dorkier than him now…” The thought of any of those with glasses—no thanks! Why, just imagine if Gretch had glass—
I tossed the glasses and backed away in horror. Don’t freak out, you know you can do this…
It wasn’t a question of whether I could or couldn’t, it was only a matter of… when. It was now… or never.
I repossessed my newly acquired pair of glasses, placed them around my eyes, then turned to the mirror, a little anxious, yet, with a small dash of hope. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll look good…”
It was worse than I could’ve ever imagined.
Just look at me. I’m a freak! A total nerd! Who’s going to wanna work with me now? I might as well kiss my engineering career goodbye! My parents are already looking into ways to disown me, I just know it. And the babe… well, if she never talks to me again, well, I can’t say I blame her.
The worst part is, half the time, they don’t even fit right! C’mon!!!
I mean, what is this, another side effect of old age? First the grey hair, then the pulled muscles, and now this? What did I ever do in this life to deserve such abuse!?
…How much longer do I have? How much longer can even I hold on…?
Man, this stinks. Sure, it makes me see a little better at night, helps me concentrate on other things besides avoiding obstacles in the road… perhaps it’ll help me concentrate on the magazine… Yea, at least I have the magazine. Well, not my magazine, but I get to senior edit the whole thing. Just look at me here, all professional-like and glasses free. Talk about a hunka-hunka-hunk! Chicks dig it!
That’s just the sneak peek. Go ahead and take a gander and subscribe! The link is below!
Yep, those were the days, back when I could sprint like a Giselle and drink like a young Robert Downy Jr., exercising the legs and the arms without a care in the world! Now, this writing’s all I have. It’s all I do, exercise the ol’ fingers since nothing else works. Sort of fitting, I suppose. I mean, there’s all sorts of writers and ol’ smarty pants who wear glasses… or wore.
Like Steven Hawking, savior of the universe. Yea, I guess that guy was pretty smart, rest his soul. Or what about Steve Jobs? He sort of changed the world with his iPods and iPhones, and iGlasses, that guy. John Lennon? There’s another one. He wrote Sergeant Peppers when he was completely on glasses, and some pretty wacked out ones at that! Pretty amazing if you ask me. But let’s be honest, the dude probably could’ve used a stronger prescription. I mean, Yoko Ono? Ughz.
Speaking of hippies, what a nutcase Hunter S. Thompson was! But hey, he wore those glasses, so everybody took him seriously. That’s probably the same with Steven King, and that guy’s not even dead yet!
Wait a minute… That’s it. I’m officially a writer now! Yea, all these years, I was trying my hardest and getting nowhere. Now, all of a sudden, I put these puppies on and, “poof!” Out comes a magazine! I can’t even imagine all the places it’s going to take me, like Las Vegas!
Man, I can’t wait to see the look on Gibson’s face when he sees these bad boys. He’s already pissed that I’m in a magazine before him. He won’t even know what to say. He’ll actually have to look at me with a little… respect.
I get it now. It was all an unnecessary evil, a step in my own evolution, like the ending of that 2001 Space Odyssey movie. Sure, I’m not the handsome hunk of yester year, but that doesn’t even matter. Who needs looks, when I have glasses?