Mirror Magazine

Mirror Magazine

Life behind glasses
By The Mole
I live behind a thin piece of glass that separates me from the rest of the world. This is not to say that I was born with a silver spoon and see the world through rose tinted glasses.You see, I suffer from one of the most common ailments known to man – myopia.

What pia? You ask. In layman’s terms this means that I am short-sighted. For the past ten years I have been unable to fend for myself without the aid of my precious glasses. They have now become part of my anatomy. Everyday chores, such as washing one’s hands, cannot be completed without this extension.

I was rather young when I was introduced to the wonderful world of glasses. It was a novel experience. I was asked to sit on a high back chair and stare into a mirror in which I could not make out my own face. A light was switched on behind me and I was asked to read 10 versions of the letter E presented for my perusal. One had the spokes facing up; another down and each letter differed in size and place. (Someone evidently needs the help of a creative team).

When I failed to identify the direction in which the third E was facing, a large contraption was laid on my head (a close relative kindly pointed out that I resembled Frankenstein on a bad day). Besides the weight and the sheer beauty of the contraption it made me see. I could actually make out the fact that I did possess one nose and two ears, and not one ear and two noses as first assumed.

That done, the saleslady happily dragged me towards the frame section. It must be mentioned that it is quite difficult, if not impractical to ask a person with relatively bad eyesight to choose a frame. It is impossible and not feasible to look at yourself and decide which frame would “bring out the best in one’s face” when one cannot see one’s face!

Therefore I had to suffer in silence as the saleslady used all the tricks she had acquired from the latest ‘Vogue’ magazine to ascertain which frame would suit my face best. Once the frame was selected I left the optometrist, and drowned my sorrows in one litre of chocolate ice cream. The call came the following week; I was to collect the specs at once. I went, got the specs, paid the fee, came home and wept.

I had to wear it eventually and I did. I looked into the mirror and nearly died. I was now the fateful owner of thick metallic blue glasses, which turned up at the ends and looked like something that came out of the pixie’s trash during the year 1866. There was the advantage, of course, of being able to either dress it up or dress it down as there was an extension that could be attached if the need arose.

After many years, and many bad choices in bad frames, I now own quite a decent pair of rimless gold glasses. The only disadvantage being that any sudden movement would render the entire contraption useless. I refused point blank to go through reading E’s in different positions for my second or third eye test.

The optometrist I then visited possessed a ‘Texas Eye Chart,’ which was a collection of drawings and caricatures taken out of a bad and ancient cowboy movie. (Someone should have checked the designer’s eyesight.) The computerized eye testing method that was discovered and put into practice a few years into my shortsighted life too is far from comfortable. One is required to place one’s chin on an uncomfortable piece of plastic and stare into a minute circle whilst the ‘nice’ eye testing lady focuses on one’s eye.

Life behind glasses has to be experienced to be understood. People identify you by your glasses. You are a different person without your glasses. I remember walking into my workplace minus my extension. The security personnel, who usually chorus a cheerful ‘Good Morning’ asked to see my Identity Card and requested authorization from the fourth flour to allow me in. My colleagues at work looked, looked back and looked again before acknowledging my presence.

Glasses come with baggage. Every wearer has to either be in the medical or engineering field. This is because most observers feel that the reason for the metal perched upon the bridge of one’s nose is due to over studying in the wee hours of the night and not to too many computer games and too much television.

If one was ever to lose one’s glasses the police need to be called in. Why? Simple. How on earth is one to search for one’s glasses with the absence of one’s glasses?
Advantages exist. One is always given first preference in the library queue, as the wearer of glasses has to be more interested in reading a book. Public speaking is a breeze as one can always hide behind one’s glasses. If one is afraid of the audience all that needs to be done is to simply remove the metal and speak to a bunch of blurry shadows. It’s very effective.

It’s also a great way in which to break the ice when faced with strangers. Spectacle users have one passion, they love their frames and they enjoy comparing eye powers. (Mine is a little below –5) Therefore it is possible to start up a decent conversation with any Tom, Dick or Harry if Tom, Dick or Harry wears glasses.

Myopics (that’s a new word) live on a level that is slightly higher than others. This is due to refraction and not due to any other reason as most myopics are prone to believe. Somewhere in the midst of my shortsighted life I took to contact lenses – plastic films that are attached to one’s eyes. These films have an incredible effect on relations below the age of 10 as these individuals fall prey to the trap that one removes one’s eyes on a daily basis and places it in a small plastic container before putting it into one’s eyes again!

Don’t get me wrong, I love my glasses. But if you ever see me stumbling over a step or a root that’s made it in the world above ground, do not despair and rush me to the emergency room of the closest hospital. Just get the specs – they’re bound to have dropped off!

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