Tuesday, November 07, 2006

(Link>) I'm so vain; you prob'ly think this post is about me. :)

Mark/PT and Mrs. Balabusta, the next time you speak to Fudge, kindly give your darling eldest daughter a bop on the head with a wet noodle on my behalf for her nefarious influence on me :) : I honestly cannot remember the last time I so thoroughly misplaced my glasses that it took me and the poor Punster roughly four hours to find them! (Apologetic wife to long-suffering husband: "You know my motto--panic first, look later.")

And it all happened because I'm vain.

Years ago, when it came time for me to make the big switch, I chose so-called "blended bifocals," the kind with lenses ground in such a way that the "distance", middle-range, and close-range viewing sections blend into one another with no visible lines. But, in recent months, I've noticed that I often find it easier to read or do close-up work without wearing my glasses at all. When I asked my husband why he'd switched to regular bifocals, he told me that the close-range viewing section is so small that it can be difficult to find, and is placed so close to the bottom of the lens that one must tip one's head up high enough to give one a literal pain in the neck. So I'd already made an appointment with the ophthalmologist--I hope to be wearing a pair of regular bifocals within a month. Vanity to the contrary notwithstanding, I really like to see, which is why I absolutely refused to ditch the specs for my wedding--I was hanged if I was going to walk around half blind on my own wedding day!

But meanwhile, back at the ranchhouse, oh where, oh where had my spectacles gone, oh where, oh where could they be?

In a rare (and getting rarer by the day) flash of memory, I finally recalled that I'd cut the label out of one of my blouses that morning because it had been irritating my skin. So I took the sewing box down from the shelf, flipped open the lid--and, sure enough, there were my glasses, folded neatly next to my sewing scissors, patiently waiting for me.

Now, about that hair. Yes, Mom is still only half gray, even though she's eighty-something. And yes, you know that she doesn't dye her hair because her doctor forbade her to use hair dye (and eye make-up) some years ago, after she'd had an eye infection. (And yes, you do realize that you may be one of the few people on earth who believes that Reagan may actually not have been lying when he insisted that he didn't dye his hair.) But still, did you expect to stay completely gray-free forever? Now stop kvetching about all your gray hairs being in front, where they're nice and visible. Be grateful that you're employed and that, therefore, you don't have to dye your hair in order to find a job. (Yes, age discrimination is illegal, but prospective employers will always find ways to discriminate that are sufficient subtle to be almost "unprovable.") Get with the program, gal: Either dye it or deal with it! You're 57. Get used to it.


I'm so vain.


Post a Comment

<< Home

<< List
Jewish Bloggers
Join >>