I had a contact lens check up this morning at Spec Savers. They have been chasing me for a while, but I got the final call last week to say that they were going to cancel my contract, so I thought I had better make an appointment. The last time I went, I got some all singing all dancing glasses, varifocal, anti glare with extra thin lenses, in the hope that I might actually wear them. I have a big problem with wearing glasses. Vanity. I feel so plain wearing them and the idea of being seen in public wearing glasses is mortifying. Worse than going out without makeup. I know that attitudes have changed and they are now often considered a fashion accessory, but I just can't do it. I have always been the same, and when I was 13, my Mum was so worried because I couldn't see the cars on my way to school, she was convinced I was going to get run over. She took me to the opticians and bought me contact lenses. That was thirty three years ago, and it was a very different set up then. They cost £120 for one pair, and there were lots of cleaning and soaking rituals requiring concoctions of tablets and solutions. Of course I never did half of the things I should have done - the overnight soaks and the sterilising and rinsing, and as a consequence I had at least 4 excruciatingly painful eye infections in the average year. I had to keep my contact lenses until they were like little bits of rag, because they were so expensive to replace, and if I lost or ripped one, there was always the danger that I would have to wear my glasses as a consequence.
The optician was also very scary and every time I went for a check up, I was told that the blood vessels in my eye were growing away from my iris and I would soon have to stop wearing lenses, or go blind. This was because I wasn't cleaning them properly, and was wearing them for too long. Thank heavens those days are gone, and I can now have a new pair of lenses every month and pay £13 pounds for the privilege. They also allow oxygen to get to the surface of my eye, so the blood vessels are no longer affected and there is no reason why I can't continue to wear them. Unlike my very expensive £300+ glasses, which Mr C very kindly purchased for me in the hope that I would be transformed into the person who designed them (Kylie Minogue! Who wouldn't want that?), and that I would feel sufficiently pretty to wear them in public. Of course neither of those things happened.
I wore them, he made a comment about Olive from On the buses (google her, you will understand the rolling of my eyes), and that put an end to any idea of stepping outside the front door with them on. I did start wearing them at home though, in the evenings, with my pyjamas and my sheepskin slippers - and they became part of the getting ready for bed routine. I actually started to like them, and wondered whether I could push aside the Olive references and maybe venture out in them. And then I sat on them. They were horribly bent and I kept thinking I would take them in, and they could be sorted out, but today I decided to take them with me to my appointment, and kill two birds. I thought it would be an easy fix. And if it wasn't, they could just replace the frames - it was the lenses that had been so expensive (and we had paid extra to make them thin in the hope that I wouldn't look like Olive). But of course, the frames have been discontinued, and the lenses aren't a standard size and won't fit into another frame, and if they cut them, it would affect the varifocalness of them. So I asked the optician if she could bend them for me. She was nearly in tears. I had to tell her three times that I would accept responsibility if they snapped. So she took them away to try to bend them into shape. She had to remove the arms so was gone for a very long time. She presented them to me as if they were a new born baby, and told me to be very careful with them. I did ask if they snap off, can't they just be welded back on, but she wasn't sure. She was a bit rubbish really and I think she just wanted me to buy some new ones. Now I can't fold the arms back in, and they won't fit in my glasses case any more, so it is only a matter of time until I sit on them again. But if all else fails, I have a packet of plasters and will fix them myself. I won't be going out of the house with them anyway.
This week I have also purchased a very smart Windsmoor jacket (an amazing spot in a charity shop, and looks like it has never been worn), and feel like Stephanie Powers from Hart to Hart when I wear it. Or did, until Mr C started making references to Angela Merkel. So if he's limping next time you see him, go easy on the sympathy.
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