I Can’t See
There is a world wide conspiracy to print important instructions, directions and descriptions in smaller and smaller fonts!
I can’t see anything, anymore. I’ve always required glasses for seeing distances — driving, shopping, going to the movies and watching television. Over the years, I began to require another type of glasses for seeing things up close – reading, looking at price tags, filing my fingernails and grooming my eyebrows. At present, it seems I can’t see anything midway between near and far. My fickle eyeballs are constantly playing games with me – and I’m not amused.
Yes, I’ve heard of bifocal (or progressive) lenses. I own a few pairs of those too. Unfortunately, they don’t really work that well. My high-maintenance pupils refuse to use the same pair of glasses for both long and short distance viewing.
I can’t see the small print on medicine bottles, food labels, cooking instructions or cosmetics. Real-estate listings are my ultimate nemesis. Who can see those tiny little photos? Who can read that microscopic information? Does that say five bedrooms or five bathrooms?
Of course, the glasses I require are never on my face. If I’m driving and need to glance at my To Do list, I need to remove the glasses I’m wearing to see the list. If I’m reading the label on an item at the grocery store, and I see someone waving and saying hello, I need to don my distance glasses so I’m able to recognize the mystery greeter.
My glasses are never where I left them and never where I need them. I have glasses on my desk at school and a pair or two bedside. I have a pair in the car and a pair beside the couch. When I need my glasses, can I find them? Of course not, there are none to be found. I am forced to conduct blurry-eyed frantic searches. “Has anyone seen my glasses?” is my constant cry.
Some of my friends have similar vision difficulties and they resort to wearing the inexpensive glasses that are available at the local drugstore. This eyewear has fun designs and funky colours and you can buy a three-pack for a very reasonable price.
On a recent trip to Shoppers Drug Mart, I decided to treat myself to a pair or two of these fancy eye glasses. This proved to be a more difficult purchase than I’d anticipated. Not only was there a large selection of colours, patterns and designs, but there were also several magnification levels to consider. Which level was right for me? There was only one way to find out.
I tried several pairs. I picked up a product from the shelf, conveniently placed beside the glasses display, and looked at the tiny print. The first pair I tried was far too blurry. I couldn’t read a thing. The next pair seemed a bit better but I was still straining to make sense of what I was reading.
I continued in this trial-and-error fashion. I spent a fair amount of time testing and reading. In-between my squinting and frowning sessions I stopped to speak to a few folks. A neighbour paused to say hello. A former student stopped to chat. My hair dresser gave me a wave.
Finally, after much time had passed, I was thrilled to find a pair that was stylish and flattering. The magnification was perfect. As I placed the product I’d been using as my vision-tester back on the shelf, I was struck by a startling realization. This helpful product was actually a box of Trojan condoms! I had been reading the side of a box of condoms for approximately half an hour!
I slowly began to comprehend that my neighbour, my former student, and my hairdresser had all witnessed me intensely scrutinizing the instructions on a condom box! I darted to the cashier, quickly paid for my new specs, and skulked out to my car.
At any rate, I believe I own enough glasses for the time-being. And I don’t plan on going back to that particular drugstore for a very long time.