Thursday July 23 2020
I’ve been adjusting to these new glasses and I have to admit it’s not going well. I’m experiencing some real problems when working on the laptop, my progressive lenses living up to their name by getting progressively worse as the day goes on. It doesn’t help that, according to the eye doctor, I’m legally blind without corrective lenses.
At one point, while pondering my inability to navigate life of any quality if I didn’t have this vision enhancement balanced on the bridge of my nose, I wondered how the myopic population made it through before the invention of concave glass, when I realized they didn’t. Make it through, that is.
Survival of the fittest in the earliest days of mankind ensured those who couldn’t see the cliff before taking that last step didn’t procreate to make little near-sighted offspring.
And just like Labrador retrievers who don’t like water, we’re all products today of selective, yet careless, breeding.
But what’s even worse, not only am I continuing to have problems seeing fine print, I just don’t like how these frames look on me. As I stand before the vanity mirror and bring the frames into position, you know who I see looking back at me?
A Tina Belcher age-progression example, that’s who.