The cute one on the left is my sister. I’m the totally nonchalant girl on the right. (Flannelette, anyone?)
This picture was taken long before my current neurosis about eyes had reached its adult strength. I cannot stand anything eye-related – contacts, sweater fuzz in eyes, eye surgery, talk about eyes, watery eyes, fingers in eyes. Ew. Ew, Ew, EW!!!
So when it was time to attend my yearly
torture session eye exam earlier this week, I knew I’d have to employ all the determination I possess not to lose my cool. I completely lost my cool. I did NOT, however, judo-kick the optometrist in the gut when he put his fingers ON MY EYELIDS without telling me and for that I deserve a hero’s praise.
The ickiest part of the afternoon – my eyes are watering even as I recall it – was when the team of
wranglers doctor’s assistants held me down and dropped the anesthesia and pupil-dilation drops into my eyes. Having peeled me off the ceiling and vowed to gag me next time, they sent me off to the waiting room so the drops could have time to take effect. And this is when I made a gut-wrenching discovery: I became horribly aware that I have hairs GROWING OUT OF MY EYELIDS, RIGHT NEXT TO MY EYES.
I had to put on my shades and sit in the dark for MANY HOURS before
the drops wore off I regained my composure.
It was a shattering afternoon.