Let's see, since I've been gone I have turned 29, gotten a new job and ventured into the world of contact lenses.
I hate two of these things.
The new job as a legal secretary for a law firm starts May 24. I was hired on my birthday, so it was a nice cushion to the blow of turning 29.
My last year in my twenties.
My last year of wearing ridiculous amounts of glitter when I go out (Cosmo magazine says no glitter after 30).
My last year of LIFE, as far as I'm concerned.
I've already informed my loved ones that I will not be leaving my room the day I turn 30. If it's a workday, I'm calling in sick. I will stay in bed all day in the fetal position, only moving to sip from a bottle of Jack Daniels. Oh, and to go to the bathroom.
And no, Mom. McDonalds chicken nuggets will NOT coax me out of my room this time.
Then there's the whole contact lenses thing. What a fiasco. When my mother asked what I wanted for my birthday, I told her all I wanted was contacts (I didn't think she'd spring for a keg of Miller Lite- she's so mean). I've never had them before and was really, really excited at the thought of not having to wear glasses all the time in order to be able to see. Plus, my glasses broke awhile ago and I'm just too cheap to get new ones. For the last couple months, in order to see, I sit with them perched on my nose (the side thingies fell off- bitch at JCPenney optical said they were "completely and totally beyond repair" so I decided to show her by continuing to use my "lost cause" eyeglasses rather than spending money that I could use for my wine fund on new ones that would actually stay on my face) and try not to move my head so they won't fall off.
Anyway. So I get the exam on my birthday. The contacts take FOREVER to come in because I basically have the eyesight of a 14 year old dog with cataracts. When I got the call last week that they were finally in, I was SO freaking excited.
It was short-lived.
I was able to put them in just fine. I don't have problems with putting stuff in my eyes (drops, etc.) so it wasn't difficult. Problem is, I still can't see. I sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes as the doctor instructed and waited for them to adjust. My eyes went in and out of focus... and when they were in focus, I happened to glance across the room and see a slightly pudgy, frowny-faced woman with really bad hair scowling at me.
She just looked so... unfriendly.
I almost gave her a quick middle finger till I realized I was looking at my own reflection. Holy shit, I did not realize how horribly old I looked till I put those stupid contacts in. I was so furious I wanted to claw them out of my eyes and go home right away to lay in bed, possibly with some wine, but then the doctor wanted to have me read stupid letters off a chart so I had to put my issues with my physical appearance aside for the moment.
He flicked the screen on in the exam room. "Ok, read the chart."
"I can't see the letters."
He stared at me. "What do you mean?"
Let me spell it out, doc. "My vision is WORSE in my left eye than it was before I put the contacts in. I can't see unless I cover my left eye." Or when I'm looking in the mirror, because the Powers That Be want me to see what a hag I've become in my old age.
He decided to send me on my merry way with the contacts from hell that go in and out of focus, showing me glimpses of my hideous self and then blurring things again just as I'm about to turn suicidal about looking like I'm 37 when I'm only
I get another pair to try on Friday. Until then, I'm blogging without moving my head, glasses balanced on my nose. And before you think I am ungrateful for the birthday gift from my mommy, please know that I am still kind of excited to eventually find contacts that work for me although I must now live with the cruel reality that I am nowhere near as pretty as I thought I was all this time.
Also, there is a squirrel living in my attic, but I'll save that for my next blog. I have to go rub anti-aging serum all over my body and practice smiling.
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