By Heather O.
So, I went to the eye doctor again this week for like the 254,689th time in my life. He had a new pair of contacts for me, a new glasses prescription, and a nifty new gadget he wanted to play with that takes pictures of my retina without having to dilate my eyes. I popped my contacts in, saw neat pictures of my optic nerve (yeah, have YOU seen YOUR optic nerve? Mine’s prettier), and stopped in at the optical shop to look for some glasses that wouldn’t make me look, well, lame.
I sighed as a looked at the rows and rows of “contemporary” glasses, “stylish” glasses, “youth”, “women’s” and “brand name” glasses. (Seriously, can anybody name a brand name of glasses of the top of their head?) I have distinct memories of doing this as a kid, except instead of choosing square framed specs that make me look like an East Coast intellectual, I was choosing bubblegum pink frames with coke-bottle lenses that gave my face a stretched, distorted quality. It was a look, a LOOK, I tell you, and a darned fetching one. Yup, you better believe that I was a SMOKIN’ twelve year old.
Luckily for me and those who would actually like to look at a human instead of a bug eyed freak during conversation, technology, both in contacts and glasses wear, has improved greatly since I couldn’t see the spelling list on the board in Ms. Hayden’s second grade class. The optician even used the word “aspherocity” while discussing my options with me, and you just can’t help but look at a man with a little bit of reverence after he utters such a 5 dollar word.
But aspherocity aside, there are still come cute frames that are denied me, because I’m just too freakin’ blind. My lenses are too thick, my myopia too extreme. So I settled for a frame that the optician said was PERFECT for me and especially complimented my eye color. Whatever. Just tell me how much I owe you so I can go home.
As he was adding everything up (MAN glasses are pricey, even the “off brand” ones), he saw me sigh the heavy sigh of a woman who knows her eyesight depends on a few flimsly frames, some plastic and…um… that stuff that contacts are made of (what is that stuff, anyway?). He said, “Cheer up. It’s been proven that extreme myopia is linked with high intelligience.”
I looked at him, considering this info.
I said,”It’s probably just genetic, right? I mean, myopia is genetic, and so is intelligience, so they might not be really linked at all. People are smart and nearsighted because their parents were smart and nearsighted.”
He shrugged and said, “Well, they don’t really know why they are linked, but they very much are.”
Well, okay then, Aspherocity Dude. I’ll take you at your word.
But when I left, I felt some sort of small victory. Over the years, it’s not just that my eyes have been getting worse and worse. If what Aspherocity Dude said was true, my brain has just been getting bigger and bigger.
At this rate, however, I fear it may explode.
Anybody else have deep rooted glasses trauma? ‘Cause if you do, welcome to the coke-bottle genius club. Maybe we should do T-shirts.
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