Transference Part II: Stuff I forgot

Almost as soon as I hit publish on my last post, I realized that I'd not actually talked about a lot the memories that went along with wearing glasses most of my life.  Glasses, and contacts too, are a major pain in the ass for many reasons.  When I get my glasses replaced every couple of years, I've come to buy the most ridiculously expensive lenses available just to get the thinnest possible piece of plastic between me and the world.  It helps with the magnification that those of us with hefty prescriptions experience.  It makes it possible for me to look the grocery store clerk in the eye when I head out in my specs for bread and bananas. 

That particular day that I ran home sobbing, I think that my glasses had been taken from me.  Or more precisely, someone had asked, as often happened, to see my glasses, so they could look through them.  Having zero skill at saying "No" to anyone as the shy little girl that I was, I'm sure I conceded to their demands.  I think it was one of those times when those big mean boys just wouldn't give them back.  They got passed around, and my stop was approaching.  I knew I was going to have to get off the bus, but just didn't have the voice to speak up and get my glasses back.  I'm not even sure I would have had the guts to tell the bus driver.  When you wear glasses as a kid, you live in constant terror of your glasses getting broken, or scratched.  Worse yet, you live with the fear that if you were to lose them, you'd be completely unable to see anything.  So that day, I sat helpless on that plastic seat, afraid that I'd never see my glasses, or the walls, or anything else, ever again. 

I mentioned that I skated through must of teen years without using any correction.  There was one exception to this, driving.  I cannot legally (or physically) drive without correction.  So, I'd keep my glasses tucked away till I had to rev up my green 1970 Ford Maverick, or Gumby, as it was known, then I'd slip them on, and avoid eye contact with my passengers.  Luckily, I was most often transporting close friends, who could give a wank if I was looking like a googly eyed bug or not.  But once in a while, a less known acquaintance would be riding in the back seat, and I'd have to reveal my secret.  That or drive off into a ditch. 

When I went to get my license, at 16 years old, they made me take an eye exam.  Now, I see great with correct.  Out of my left eye.  It's not that I don't see out of my right eye, but it's become so weak, that my left eye basically does all the work, with the right working to help with peripheral vision.  It's a common enough problem that it doesn't phase most eye docs, but to a lay examiner at the Frankfort County Clerk's office, it was apparently an anomaly.  In a shocked tone, she told me that she could not issue my license until I got my family eye doctor to sign off saying that I was NOT legally blind.  This was both embarrassing and scary.  What if I couldn't drive because of my stupid eyes?  That would be social suicide as a teenager. 

The litany of complaints I have against my vision is long.  As a little kid, going to the pool is another pain in the butt.  You can't see when you take your glasses off, but you can't really swim with them on, because they just get wet, and you can't see through that either.  You also have the added burden of trying to find a safe place to store them so that your friends don't sit or step on them.  Seriously, what 10 year old carries a hard shelled eye glass case to the pool?  Not me, that's for sure.  This issue with water extends to running through the sprinklers in the neighbor's yards, being out in the rain, getting a snow ball to the face, spending the day at a water park, etc. 

I remember very clearly playing outside one summer, as a little kid.  My glasses got wet thanks to some neighborhood antics, and I wanted to dry them off.  I don't know how old I was, but am certain that, given my actions, I couldn't have been more than 4.  I found the driest surface I could, and proceeded to wipe my lenses on them.  That surface?  Our front porch concrete steps.  I was baffled when, after drying them, my ability to see through them had actually gotten worse!  Imagine!  I suspect my mom also remembers that clearly. 

Contact lenses also pose their own logistical problems, along with being expensive and bad for your eyes.  Ever try camping with contacts?  Yeah, have fun removing your lenses in the dark with dirty hands.  I also have considerable difficulty with glare while driving in my contacts.  It's less of a problem in the day light, when my superior distance vision keeps me well aware of the road for miles around me.  But at night, I might as well be blindfolded. 

Here I am, reminding myself again, that these are my experiences, and not Raina's.  Exhale.  Again.