Days 218 - 220 I'm progressive!

Today was my annual eye exam. Well, it's supposed to be an "annual" exam, but I didn't get one last year. So it's really my 2-year exam, if truth be told.

My husband took me down to the eye care center with toddler, since it's his day off and his exam was scheduled just after my own.

While in the doctor's room, I could hear my toddler throwing a fit in the waiting area where all of the glasses are displayed. I was sitting in that huge optical chair with all of the eye exam equipment around me thinking, "I'm so glad my husband's taking care of the toddler right now and not me." Because I didn't get my usual mug of hot coffee this morning -- we'd run out -- I was a bit...cranky. Okay, I cannot tell a lie. I was downright mean and nasty this morning and my husband and I managed to argue about dog poop and hair in the tub for a good half hour before we even left for the 9:00 a.m. eye exam appointment.

But I digress.

The optician was a pleasant younger-ish man, about mid-30s. He went about checking my eyes with the standard, "Which one looks better: One or Two?" And he clicks the machine to various positions.

Most of my answers brought a monotoned reply from the optician: "That's good."

But then I must've chosen the wrong number because he says, "Let's try that again. Which one looks better? One or Two?"

And again, I chose the wrong number.

So he readjusts his rolling chair, readjusts my eye equipment, and does it a third time. Same result.

He scoots backwards in his chair, scratches his balding head and says to me, "You're about five years too young for this, but you need bifocals."

I kinda figured that out myself about six months ago. But being told this information by a doctor is kinda like admitting you have an addiction. The moment you truly face this reality hits you like a ton of bricks.

I figured this out myself when my middle daughter would throw her paperwork in my face and say, "Look, Mom! I got an A!" And I'd grab the paper from in front of my eyes and stretch my arms out as far as they would go and look at the paper from a distance.

Or when I am in church and the pastor has us read scripture along with him, and I pull my glasses up and over my forehead so I can see the small print in my Bible a bit clearer. And then I pull my glasses back over my eyes when I look up at the pastor at the front of the congregation.

But it really, really struck me last night when I was sewing at the sewing machine and I couldn't focus on the eye of the needle and had to get my middle daughter to thread the needle for me.

So I ordered my "progressive lens" pair of glasses and forked over $257. I'm told nobody can tell they'll be "progressive lenses," however. Just to be sure people couldn't possibly notice, I picked out a bejeweled pair of frames that glimmer and shine and refract light so people notice the jewels and not my lenses.

Did I mention I'm turning 40 in a few weeks?

Turning 40 and bifocals within 2 weeks of each other. That's enough to make a woman want to visit a plastic surgeon and lift in places that have fallen and plump up other places that have leaked out their youthfulness.

Sigh....

Ah, well. I must learn to grow old gracefully...right? At least my husband says he doesn't see my youth hightailing it out of my body faster than a speeding bullet.

"And no one after drinking old wine desires new, for he says, 'The old is good.'"

"Gray hair is a crown of glory. It is gained in a righteous life." Proverbs 16:31

"Even unto old age I am He,

And to gray hairs I will carry you."

Isaiah 46:4