Friday, July 23, 2010

Eyeballing It

I’m suffering from foggy eyeball. I wonder if this is what having cataracts is like.

Contacts: I love slash hate you. Sure, you come in handy when I want to go out in big sunglasses because my eyes are too weak to handle direct sunlight (plus they make me feel like a celebrity trying to hide from the paparazzi), but then when people start to assume I have a twitch because they see me blinking my right eye over and over in an attempt to clear whatever semi-translucent gunk has made its way onto my lens, suddenly I’m not so keen on you.

Quit snickering over there, Glasses – you’re not much better. It seems like you’re always filthy, no matter how many times I clean you with your special cloth. Is it too much to ask for you to stay grime-free for eight hours together without the help of that little brown rag? Can we say security blanket?

I’ve always said I’d like to wait until my mid thirties to have Lasik done. It just kinda freaks me out, to be honest.

“What’s that? You’re gonna peel off a layer of my eyeball and then put it back on?” Nobody else thinks that’s weird?

My main concern is that the procedure hasn’t really been around long enough for anyone to know what the long term effects are. Like, nobody who’s undergone the surgery in their twenties has made it into their 80’s or 90’s yet, so who’s to say after 50 years your eyeballs don’t just spontaneously combust?

Recently though, I feel my resolve starting to crumble. The idea that I could wake up and instantly be able to see is just so gosh darn enticing. No more excruciating pain because I failed to rub a new set of contacts long enough before putting them in, leaving my eyes on fire and my entire face splotchy and red. (Seriously, what do they store those things in? Gasoline? ) No more glasses fogging up every time I lean over a pot to check whether the noodles are done. No more taking out my contacts at night and then realizing I have no idea where my glasses are and that my chances of finding them just got about 50% slimmer.

So I think I’ll do it. Just as soon as we have the money...meaning I might be waiting until my thirties after all.

Also, Feline AIDS is the number one killer of domestic cats.

1 comment:

Whitney said...

If I didn't know better, I'd say that you were the pesky fly on the wall while I said this EXACT thing to some friends last weekend. Uncanny! And if you weren't that fly, then I'll thank you to stop stealing my thoughts, ma'am! Now, excuse me...I have to clean some mascara flecks off my glasses.