Carrie and I are going to get our eyes check Monday for new glasses. I'm already dreading it.
First of all, I hate any medical interventions having anything to do with my eyes. Ironically, although I'm in an intimate relationship with an Eyeball Professional, I'm completely phobic about the eye doctor; even that little puff of air on the glaucoma test stresses me out.
Secondly, I hate the fact that my vision is crap, and it's getting crappier all the time. My favorite form of recreation is reading, and my livelihood depends on my ability to look into a microscope and actually see something. I totally resent the fact that large print books and 100x diffs on the microscope are soon to going to be a part of my life. However, I'm not too thrilled with the thing I do now...I hold my book at an angle so that me head is tipped back and I am looking through the very bottom of my bifocal lenses. Ever since Carrie told me how much food servers hate looking up the nostrils of old people in bifocals, I've been extra aware of the bad etiquette involved.
So Monday...new glasses. The last time I got new glasses, the prescription was so much stronger than my old pair that I misjudged the distance when I got into my truck and smacked my forehead on the door frame. I walked around with a massive bruise on my forehead for a week, and had to tell a variety of lies to avoid looking like the moron everyone already knows me to be. But most people try to be polite under those circumstances. You know how it is...lie and the world lies with you.
In general, I like being middle aged. But I wouldn't mind having my 25 year old eyeballs and my 44 year old wisdom. Oh...and maybe the feet I had when I was 6 or 7. Those were some cute tootsies. People used to comment on them, so I know it's true. Now I have feet like Fred Flintstone.
But I know if I had that healthy body and those good eyeballs from my ill-spent youth, I'd abuse them in the same ways I already have that's made them old and decrepit anyway. Except that I'd avoid hitting my head on that softball this time, and maybe I could be a little less blind and crazy. Maybe.
So Monday I'm going to sit in the chair while Lori says "Is 1 better than 2?" And I'll say, "I don't know...they both suck." And I'll feel bad, and she'll feel bad. Then we'll go to her chiropractor appointment and she'll feel bad, and I can feel bad for her. There's some nice poetic justice there, don't you think?
And in the end, I'll see better and she'll feel better, and we'll laugh at how we drag our feet doing the things that actually make our lives better. And then we'll do it again next time.
In sameness, there is strength.