I started wearing glasses when I was twelve. Most girls cringed at the idea, begging to replace sophisticated specs for the chore of touching and maintaining their eyeball every day. Not me, I was secretly happy the day I found out I had to wear glasses, and an obsession was born. I am the kind of girl that dreams of a collection of glasses that would rival most shoe collections. So, I wrote my own little makeover story—a story where glasses equal sophistication and sexy intelligence.
Around me, people were shopping for toilet paper and shaving razors, and I was endlessly putting on different pairs of glasses. I was at my eye appointment in a big box store sometime during my early teens. I pressed my finger on the nose pads of yet another pair of wire rim glasses. I was unimpressed and picky; I was looking for refinement, as I always do with new glasses. The selection looked so ordinary and plain. I ruled out contacts about as fast as my mom said no to the purple-tinted ones. I couldn’t remember which solution was for cleaning and could barely tell my left from my right (a skill I am still mastering). I already knew I wasn’t the kind of person who could take on such a responsibility, for life, unless I planned to enjoy frequent bouts of pink eye. The first time a contact fell out of my eye, I reacted the same way I do when a stink bug lands on my arm—a shrill shriek, followed by hesitation to touch.
The makeover story is always about the girl, an ugly duckling, who goes off and gets new clothes, a hairstyle, wears makeup and ditches the glasses only to become pretty and popular. I wasn’t that person either. I sought out the unique, a way to be unapologetically myself—the girl with her face in a book and a cute pair of glasses who clearly spent many Saturday nights alone watching melodramatic 90s teen comedies. I began to idolize that face, the dark hair, and the thick glasses. I wanted to be some combination of Lisa Loeb and Daria—artsy and sarcastic. After the long deliberation at the big box store, I found my perfect tortoiseshell “nerd” glasses in the sunglasses section. Can you make these into regular eyeglasses? I asked. They were perfect. “And you say, I only hear what I want to. “
Modern day me is still a misguided teenager at times, standing idly in my underwear looking for a perfect outfit an acceptable outfit that will make up for today’s batch of insecurities. My beautiful high heels are tucked away in a bag, reminiscent of the days when I wore confident career clothes. The days when I had two kids and time. Now I settle for something quick—jeans, black t-shirt or a simple dress. It is all thrown on and no longer prepared. My tired (at home) mom wardrobe hasn’t experienced summer yet, so getting dressed has been one wardrobe identity crisis after another. I pull aside the splashes of color and pattern that was my old life, the one that no longer fits my fourth child postpartum body. (It is still under two years, so I am still allowed to call it that, right?) I ultimately end up in something black, the color of elegance and convenience. It is plain, easy; the way things have to be now. I channel my middle school uniform days and rely heavily on accessories to declare my individuality. (Does this choker make my neck look fat?) I look at my nightstand; it holds a cute ring, an old Anthropologie catalog (in case I win the lottery), a sewing kit, a pictureless frame and three pairs of glasses. I put on my new clear frames. Girl, mascara, now. They tell me. I think about writing my own makeover story. A tired mom, returned back to a new state of ugly duckling. She gazes longingly into her closet, yearning for the days when all those beautiful dresses and printed pants fit without shapewear or a promise to lose ten pounds. The magic wand of time waved over her, and that side-boob fat went away. She knows she can’t go back. After four kids, her body is totally new and once again different—just like her transformation. Her goal isn’t to be popular or get the perfect guy; it is for her to feel confident. She puts on her clothes and shoes, resting into her vanity with an open makeup bag. The crystal glasses capture the sunlight of another beautiful spring day. The perfect finishing touch, like a tiara for her face, that amplifies her beautifully tired eyes. I see the world clearer now, thanks to a quick confidence makeover and my sexy, sophisticated glasses.
This essay was written for DiscountGlasses.com who provided me with my beautiful new facial accessory. After I perused their large selection of affordable frames, I chose the one I wanted, uploaded my prescription and I had my new glasses in mere days. If you are like me and dream of a large collection of frames and are super frugal, this is a great option. Thanks to DiscountGlasses.com, I am one step (pair) closer to a selection of glasses to fit all of my (many) moods.