After spending a good week and a half squinting at the TV, people talking to me, and the number of a bus which i repeatedly failed to catch, I thought it best to get the old peepers seen to. Also the horrible idea kept coming back to me that you can read people's lives from the lines and wrinkles on their faces, and my face would just say-nothing! we'll blatantly all be botoxed to Bognor and back by the time i have wrinkles! silly sausages!
'You have what is known as 'rugby ball' shaped eyes Miss Nightingale. Nothing to be alarmed about, it's called an 'astigmatism', the bloke with the breath that had a whiff of garlic-ness to it reassured me while blinding me with a mini torch.
rugby ball eyes? the only ball shaped body parts I actually want are the ones located on my chest. great. Also there didn't seem anything positive in the word aSTIGMAtism. My opinions were of the old school way, glasses were for geeks, school being an operative word. It was always the owly looking kids in my school who were picked on for their specs and now i was going to have to join the milk bottle mongtards (alright, that word is playground retro and you won't be laughing when it comes back!)
Yet when did the opinions of those kappa popper wearing, happy hard core listening, teenage baby producing bunch known as 'the popular kids' ever retain longevity? well, actually the first two trends in fashion and music are making a come back and all of Europe knows we hold the record for most teen pregancies...but hey ho on glasses they were wrong!
So the next day I bravely visited the specs shop and psyched myself up with thoughts like 'Lilly Cole for Paul Smith in harry potter glasses, sexy secretary, minxy teacher etc' and shoved a pair on and blinked and my newly framed face...hmm bit dame Edna.
unsurprisingly the classic Chanel and Dior frames were the best but waaay out of my price range. so I opted for a simple tortishell pair in a square style and hoped my critics, at college, would be kind. My own personal opinion was I was working the Daria (that American cartoon with a deadpan character) meets high powered lesbian look.
It wasn't until today when some sleazy Frenchman stopped me and waxed lyrical rubbish about me being sexy in specs, followed by asking if i was a teacher with a twinkle in his eye, that I realised I had accomplished at least one of my desired looks! Even though it resulted in me extricating myself from his oily charms and promptly hiding in a nearby shop.