Tuesday, February 23, 2010

My Newest (Partial) Cure for the Blues

I knew it was a risk, choosing the glasses.

I mean, I'm very fashion forward, what with my sweatpants in four exciting (i.e. grey, navy, dark green, brown) shades and my fleece robe, but even I knew that the glasses may be perplexing to some.

I knew not everyone would understand.

http://www.blogcdn.com/www.spinner.com/media/2007/11/elton_john_photosynthesis_400.jpg
He would understand.


http://crunchiemummy.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/sallyjessyraphael.jpg
Eh- she might.

It takes a person with a certain vein of avant-garde panache to so effortlessly toe the line that separates uncool from so-uncool-that-it's-cool.

Clearly, I am she.

Still, I was not expecting the positive response.

I was so riled up, I dashed out and bought some for the kids.

For obvious reasons, I don't typically get the "they look so much like you!" thing. But these may very well change that. If you saw the three of us walking your way, wouldn't you be inspired by such a cutting-edge family?

And we don't even have vision problems!

It's purely cosmetic, baby.

I especially love the exaggerated prescription on the lens of the left eye. It adds a little pizazz. It highlights my premature crows-feet spectacularly well.

Suffice it to say - I've had a rough day. I've cried in the bathroom thrice, which is more than I usually cry in a solid month, PMS days included.

But I'll tell ya, I laughed out loud so many times at your comments about my glasses. The whole experience was alternately hilarious and mortifying. I cringed at the thought that you might actually think I was wearing that windshield around. But it had me in giggle fits all day, and that always outweighs mortification. I considered just letting it ride. I've always been of the belief that if you wear something like you mean it, people may just assume you know something that they don't.

Alas, it is time to hang it up. I'm tired of living this charade. I just want to be me again. It's been exhausting, living this lie.

So, I implore you - if you're having a bad day, if you worry that you've let yourself go beyond the point of no return, if you find yourself spending quality thinking-time minutes pondering the possibility of an entire wardrobe constructed of fur-lined fleece - dig your husband's Junior High School eyeglasses out, slap them on, and take a pic. Nevermind the doublish chin or the bad hair or the wrinkles upon wrinkles upon wrinkles.

Post that baby up, for all the world to see.

Then bask in the knowledge that you have reached the age where you just don't give a dern if you look your best all the time. And soak up the truth that you are loved, just the same.