Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – August 4, 2004
New Glasses
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – August 4, 2004 – It’s always a relief to go and see Peter, my optometrist and to walk away with a clean bill of health. My eyes are experiencing the usual reading and night driving distress typical of middle age, but other than that, I have no problems. No creeping glaucoma or over-inflated eye pressure.
Just the usual should I try bifocals again or stick with reading glasses debate? I tried the two-in-one glasses a couple of years ago and was either tripping over my own feet or attempting to read with my distance prescription. The result was a massive headache whenever I wore my glasses, so it was back to the old perch-on-the-nose readers.
I also have a pair of the pharmacy magnifiers that I use when I’m wandering around the house and need to read tiny print. To date, I’ve resisted the pearl string around the neck attached to my wayward spectacles. I’m reserving that for the day I decide to have a blue rise put in my hair.
I left the eye doctor’s office clutching a prescription for new glasses. I had time to kill before my next commitment so I decided to pop in to Hakim Optical on Lawrence East to have a peek at new frames. This is where it gets daunting. There must be fifty thousand different frames in the store. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration – but I bet there were a thousand to choose from. Gold, silver, tortoise shell, heavy plastic, lightweight plastic, black, red, green, purple, small round granny glasses, aviator frames, Buddy Holly frames, frame less frames, rainbow coloured frames square frames, oblong and rectangular ones. Gucci, Ralph Lauren and countless other designer glasses.
Nikon is now making glasses. I’m surprised Oprah hasn’t jumped on the bandwagon. So where’s a gal to start? I looked at the poster sized pictures that lined the walls of the store. Was it coincidental that all the models were young, beautiful or handsome, slim and designer dressed? Could this be a marketing ploy? I considered this to be a distinct possibility. Would I succumb? No chance!
I picked up a pair of rectangular, blue plastic frames, popped them on and then compared my reflection to the picture of the blonde model on the wall. I tossed back my long blonde hair and turned my square jaw to the camera. I mean – I fluffed out my short red hair, pinched my cheeks for a little colour and smiled. Not even close.
She also has a good looking guy and a sail boat as props. That hardly seems fair. I bet I’d look great on that boat. Okay, I don’t have the tan, the little white sweater casually knotted around my shoulders and the size four shorts – but I bet that hunky thirty year old sailor would come to adore me once he was captivated by my scintillating personality.
I picked up a pair of aviator frames – I looked like Kurt Russell preparing for a sky dive. Buddy Holly frames made me look like a 1930’s librarian – all I needed was a sweaters set and a pair of oxfords. I would not be defeated. I looked at another poster -this time a forty something brunette, minus the boy toy. I picked up the oblong lavender frames. She looked divine – I looked like the purple people eater on steroids. This was not going well.
I asked the saleswoman for assistance. We went up one side of that store and down the other. I now had eighteen frames to try on, or about 1.8% of her inventory. I sat down at a table with a mirror and proceeded to look my glamorous best. The fact that my eyes still had yellow dye in the corners from my glaucoma test and I wasn’t wearing a spot of make up did not deter me. After the first go round, I’d discarded six frames – too traditional, forget the gold frames, the aviators are out and plastic tortoise shells just aren’t going to do it.
I had an even dozen left. Time for round two. I glanced at the ppster of the middle aged woman with perfectly coiffed, prematurely grey hair. Darn it she has a guy with her too. So, it’s supposed to be her preppy son – what was I thinking? I say forget the mom and grab the sizzling son for an hour of afternoon delight. Oops – back to the frames. These cute little Granny Smiths make me look like John Lennon on a bad hair day.
I’m down to four pairs. Hey, I can do this. I ask for the saleswoman’s opinion. It’s a good thing I’m the only customer in the store. I have her undivided attention on this rainy Wednesday morning. The copper coloured oblongs are out. The black rectangular wire frames fit my little pin head very comfortably and don’t over power my little pretend face. Bingo, they are a keeper. I have small round silver frames and caramel coloured plastic rectangulars left. They are neck and neck … they’re coming down to the wire … caramel rectangulars fall by the wayside, as small round silvers surge ahead – they are the winner. Black wire frame rectangulars and small round silvers – I am a woman of frames – I’ve been framed
I don’t have my own poster, but that’s just an advertising and marketing oversight. Where is J. Walter Thompson when you need him? Add the non glare, anti-scratch coatings and I’m glassed up for the next two years.
On my next visit to Peter, I’ll have to pick up the tab for my eye exam as well, thanks to Dalton’s “Fiberals”. You remember the “no new taxes pledge” – so let’s call it a “health premium” instead debacle. Lets’ see (no pun intended) will my next eye exam coincide with a future, provincial election – maybe. I know I’m getting long in the tooth, but I’m not deaf, dumb or blind and I have a good memory.
It will be time again for new glasses – but by then, I’m sure I’ll have met a robust, young poster boy to give me guidance, and my hair will be long and luxurious and blonde and I’ll have that sail boat. “How would you like to pay for your new glasses, Ma’am” interrupted my reverie. I slid my Visa cross the counter. I took “buy new glasses” off my “To Do List” – Ma’am had successfully completed another errand.
