The Sheralyn Experiment

I was doing some reading the other day and happened to have my [ahem] reading glasses on.  And because I am still young enough to feel the shame that comes from finding myself amidst this messy business of needing spectacles to read, I absolutely refuse to wear them in any fashion that would lead people to conclude that they are what they really are.  Which is basically grandma glasses minus the dreaded neck chain.

Happy was the day when I bought some readers that could easily pass for regular glasses.  But, as I have posted previously, for one to complete the facade, a little "smoke and mirrors" must be involved, which is to say,  they cannot be worn on the tip of the nose nor can the wearer tilt their chin so as to gaze over the rims.  These are both dead giveaways that you are wearing readers.

So on Sunday I was sitting at home cozy-ed up with a book.  The fire was roaring and I was blissfully content in a swirl of a thick soft quilt.  With glasses on, I turned from my book to stare across the room and read the clock.  It was all a blur.  My dilemma at this point was this: do I lift the glasses to rest on the top of my head or do I quickly lower my chin and peer over the rims, since, after all, no one was in the room with me?  The former seemed like a lot of work.  The latter seemed like a slippery slope to a bad habit that might habitually make its way into public life and I just couldn't chance it.  In my extreme refusal to peer over the rims, I have had, of late, many a conversation in public with blurry people.

Suddenly I had the realization that my niece Sheralyn is no stranger to the world of blur.  She sees this way every single day.  She wears glasses and without them the poor girl is practically blind.  Every single morning she wakes to a hazy world completely out of focus and has to get her glasses on before she does anything else.  Just recently, she forgot to bring her glasses with her to swim practice.  She's on the high school's varsity swim team and when she lost the contacts in the pool she had NO backup plan.  She literally had to crouch down towards the floor and follow the lines beside the pool, like she was reading braille, in order to find her way back to the locker room! 

So with that in mind I decided to spend the rest of my Sunday in what I call, "The Sheralyn Experiment".  A day in the life.  This should keep me from my aging pity parties and make me appreciate that fact that I can at least see everything far away.  Just not up close!  So, I kept my reading glasses on for the rest of the day and navigated life precariously impaired.  In order to read the clock I had to walk to it, past the blur of furniture and get within a foot of it so I could read it.  By the time the day was over I had a new appreciation for my niece and the remaining eyesight I do have left.  But I also had sore and stubbed toes, and a giant whopping headache!

With a new outlook on the challenges of aging eyesight,  I am now worried about some serious things that were called to my attention during my "Sheralyn Experiment".  If, in my decrepit future, my vision gets really really bad, how in the heck will I...

• See to put on my make-up?
• Stay "in the lines" if I have ever reach the age when I have to trace on my eyebrows?
• Continue to have conversations with blurry people who I identify only by the sound of their voice if suddenly my hearing starts getting bad too?

And now I'm starting to wonder if...

• I will have to get one of those phones with giant buttons?
• If I can't see to even find my readers, will I end up caving in and buying a chain to hang them about my neck like an albatross drowning me into the sea of wretched decrepitude?
• And if so,  is it possible that eye wear chains will ever be considered "Bling"? 

Oh, yes, the "Sheralyn Experiment" did me a lot of good.  But it also raised a lot of questions and an ill-drawn eyebrow or two.