New glasses mean more sandwiches that I need to make

My eyes hurt a bit still

At my visit to the eye doctor, last night, I was told that my eyes are producing new

veins in my eyes to draw in oxygen. That’s a bad thing. Apparently, the new growth of veins in the eye cavity can cause corneal damage and apply pressure throughout the eye. Yeah! So, I’ve been asked to wear glasses more often, and purchase the most expensive contacts on the market to ensure the maximum blood flow and oxygen intake for my eyes. I told the doctor that I hadn’t been too concerned with my eye’s oxygen intake, and had been focusing on my lungs intake of oxygen. She just stared at me. Yeah, sorry.

Regardless, I had to shuffle my feet, after paying over $100 for the eye exam, over into

Pearle Vision to look at glasses. The idea that I’ll be wearing glasses more doesn’t bother me; it frightens me after the incident with my grandmother nearly destroying my sunglasses with the shear movement of a hug. She went to hug me and her arm end up in my face, clawing my sunglasses off and tossing them behind me. My friends who were there to witness this event agreed that it was utterly impossible and “the strangest thing they’ve ever seen.” I’d have to agree. I have no idea how it happened. Like I said I have problems with glasses; I tend to break them. Actually, I think it has more to do with others causing damage to my glasses instead of me actually doing anything to them. I don’t sit on them, or drop them very often. Instead, people just really enjoy knocking them off my face (Note: It’s a lot easier to blame this issue on other people then to look at the times where I may have done damage to my former glasses by my own person.) and letting them crash to the floor to be stepped on by a dog or something.

This isn’t the first time I had to make a decision to switch back to glasses, but I didn’t

want to repeat the cumbersome nature of my last purchase, thick, black plastic rimmed jobbies that made me look like I would enjoy doing your taxes or compiling a spread sheet of marketing numbers for the director of the company I work for. No, that would not happen this time. This time I would take my time examining all my options; too bad there weren’t too many. As I stood there with the sales person I explained that I wanted wire frames. I learned from my past mistakes, right? Hell no. After a few pairs of squared off, wire frames the sales person suggests the plastic frames. She says they’re “in style.” Now, I’ve never concerned myself with these trend situations. I’m more interested in not accenting the two giant bushes of hair above my eyes then what glasses will make the best fashion statement. Yet, she pulled a pair off the wall, I tried them on and liked them. With thin, wire earpieces and a plastic front with reasonable thickness they didn’t look bad. Except for the confusion that this will cause as people look at me and wonder if my eyebrows begin below the glasses line, I’m fine with the glasses.

As it stands right now I’m wearing a pair of contacts, the most expensive soft lenses on

the planet with an oxygen intake level of 140 (Whatever that means. I mean, it’s a higher number, but what does 140 really signify?), that the doctor handed me on my way out along with some solution and a futuristic carrying case (Wow, is this thing weird looking.). They feel fine, but my eyes feel a bit irritated; which isn’t exactly any different than the way they’ve felt for the past few months, bust still. I’m optimistic about my new glasses, contacts and the impending debt I will be entrenched in after I receive the bill for both the glasses and contacts – probably well over $500. Umm, does anyone want to buy a kidney? Please?