There are two "coming of age" events that I have dreaded and frankly, worked very hard to ignore, prolong, and just plan push off into the distant future-- very distant future. But alas the day of reckoning has smack me up side the head and I can no longer hide from the inevitable.
For the first time ever, no matter how much I focused-- or tried to, I could no longer squint my way through Costco-- Faking it wasn't an option and I finally had to wear my distance glasses to grocery shop so I could read the aisle markers and make out what was on the upper shelves.
Insert big sigh of disappointment.
Make no mistake, I fully admit this is ridiculous and vanity-filled, but I am crushed. It was bad enough that I needed my reading glasses to see labels and price tags, but now distance glasses to grocery shop. Egad! That's two pairs of glasses to accomplish one job-- Seeing.
Yes, I've been wearing distance glasses for over a year to drive but those times I've mostly been alone and less self conscious of how they magnify the wrinkles under my eyes. Now that distance glasses are needed in broad daylight-- in public-- all the time-- means bifocals are in my future. And bifocals, like the word "retire" sound so stinking old that I'm all in a dither and feeling very sorry for myself.
For the record, again-- I know this is ridiculous but I'm thinking of wearing black and going into mourning. But first let me say-- There's more...
A few months ago, shortly after our home was burglarized, wiry, uncontrollable, and less than youthful gray hairs started sprouting straight up from the top of my head. I was shocked. Prior to this revelation, I knew with absolute certainty that I only had 17 grays scattered around my head, and I know that because I counted them on a regular basis-- wearing my reading glasses and using a 10x magnifying mirror and shining a super-sized flashlight at my head.
I'm blaming the new gray hairs on the shock of having people loot our home and rustle through my underwear drawer because it all happened around the same time and to be honest, I was stressed out beyond words about being robbed.
When I whined about the grays, my husband poo-poo'd them and pointed out a few more, then practically ran from the room so as not to hear my shrieking in horror and flat out foul-mouthed bitching as I realized counting them all was no longer an option-- There are far too many!
I had actually been pretty proud of the fact that at nearly 55 years old I was saving a bundle of money by not coloring my hair yet. Superficial? Of course, but a point of pride that I held onto as one last morsel of my youth.
So here I sit-- Gray hairs growing wildly out of control, reading glasses perched on my face, distance glasses propped on my head, and distance sunglasses still hooked in the collar of my tee shirt from my earlier drive home-- in tears by the way, from Costco-- all totaling a significant amount of money and taking up a great deal of space on my person not to mention three cases to hold them overflowing in my handbag.
I am not a happy girl.
But I do have an appointment on the calendar to start the color process of my hair and one with the eye doctor to increase my eye glass prescriptions before I invest in new ones to minimize the number of glasses I need to wear all the stinking time and carry around with me. No, contact lenses aren't an option for me but new specs, with a stronger prescription, are mandatory or I'll be bumping into walls sooner than later.
In the meantime, you'll be able to easily spot me in the grocery store. I'll be the one wearing black from head to toe, a ski cap, and carrying a magnifying glass so I can tell the difference between Costco's mega rolls of paper towels and baby diapers-- the later of which I need about as much as I need these gray hairs.
Pity party over. Thanks for listening.
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins
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