I'm sure you've been waiting with baited breath to see my new glasses. That is, if you read this earlier post:
http://sheertrashroadshow.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-myoptic-misadventures.html
(What is "baited" breath, anyway?)
Anyway, I went to collect them a few days ago, with much trepidation. I suppose the weirdly gothic thunderstorm, sudden torrential cloudburst, and unseasonly hail that came sweeping in just as I entered the optometrist's office was perhaps a portent of things to come.
The glasses were brought out for me to try on.
My first impression was that I suddenly looked like a cross between Sally Jessy Raphael.... (No! No! the younger version--please!)
Yeah, that one:
and Ralphie, from A Christmas Story...
Actually, with my track record, this isn't a bad result. Though I did run out and buy a bottle of darker Clairol pronto to try and moderate the contrast between the dark frames and my increasingly washed-out middle-aged coloring.
I'll have to admit, though, that they're growing on me now that I've gotten used to them.
Believe me, I've done worse... a lot worse...
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| Back when it all began... |
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