I went on my annual pilgrimage to the eye doctor earlier today. I’ve had eyeball surgery three times in my life, so the poking and prodding they do for a normal exam is no big deal to me. The big deal is picking out glasses. This is a big, colossal deal, and I’m expected to do it in mere minutes with no entourage of friends who will give me honest opinions.
I was born in 1970, got my first pair of glasses in 1977, and, more importantly, wore glasses from 1980-1989, so I am no stranger to poor choices in eyewear fashion. I’m no stranger to poor choices in all kinds of fashion. The rules of fashion were and always will be dictated by people who are six feet tall, 83 pounds, and hipless and boobless. I, on the other hand, am five foot six, a whole person bigger than 83 pounds, and well endowed in the badonkadonk region as well as the chestular area. I’m also over 50 and no longer give a damn, so I refuse restrictive waistbands and shoes that aren’t foot-shaped. I wear dresses a lot because I hate pants.
None of which qualifies me to pick out a fashion accessory that is going to be a focal point on my face every single day for the next year and change. I mean, I went with a lot of people and got a lot of opinions to get my wedding dress, which I only wore once for about six hours. It took weeks to find the right wedding dress. I agonized over the decision. But, you may say, those pictures will be hanging in the house forever. Sure, but so will the pictures of me wearing those horrible octagonal glasses with the gradient shading and offset arms in my senior picture.
I had my cell phone with me because it’s 2022 and it’s practically the law, so I took a picture of me wearing my two finalists, and texted the pictures to my daughter (18) and son (21). They disagreed with each other. My daughter argued, somewhat persuasively, that I shouldn’t listen to my son’s opinion because he wore a Buc-ee’s hat every day. I texted the pictures to two different friends, who also disagreed with each other. The two opticians at the shop agreed with each other, and I ended up going with their opinion, since they were the ones that could see me in three dimensions, and their choice was the less expensive pair. There was no way I was going to go with my own opinion, because we know where that gets me.
Here are the two pictures I sent. Which one would you have chosen?
There’s no right or wrong answer here. The point is that my face looks radically different in these two different glasses, and I’m expected to make a choice then and there and then walk around in professional and social settings looking that way for an entire calendar year. The further point is that picking out glasses is a more significant choice than picking out your wedding dress, yet you’re supposed to do it friendless and on a random Tuesday.
Ideally, you’ll post a picture of your glasses in the
comments, especially if you lived through the 70s and 80s like I did.
 It’s true that there’s no right or wrong, except that I chose the red ones, and if you say you would pick the other ones, you’re basically saying I could have looked better for the upcoming year.
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Lori B. Duff is an award-winning author who practices law on the side. Her latest book, “If You Did What I Asked in the First Place” was awarded the Gold Medal for humor in the Foreword INDIES awards in 2019. You can follow her on Twitter at @LoriBDuff and on Facebook. For more blogs written by Lori, click here. For more information about Lori in general, click here. If you want Lori to do your writing for you, click here. If you want Lori to help you market your book, click here.