The eyes have it

I went to the eye doctor today. It's really weird; every time I go to see my optometrist, Dr. Anne, she's pregnant. It's not like I'm visiting at regular intervals, either. It had been a year and half since I last saw her, and she was massively pregnant then with her second child. This time I was worried she was going to slide out of her examination chair and become a lumpy heap on the floor—she was completely unable to bend at the waist. She held herself in place by locking her knees and bracing the heels of her boots against the floor. I would have laughed, but I was afraid she was going to hit me in the eye with her belly button.

Anyway, I have this weird love/hate relationship with glasses. I wear contacts and I always think I want to wear glasses, even though it's been two years since I have by the time I get around to visiting the optometrist. So I pick out a cute pair of frames, get the lenses put in, wear them for two weeks, and then remember...glasses drive me crazy. They put everything I see in little boxes, they slide down my nose when I'm up to my elbows in dishwater, they leave little white tan lines on my temples in the summer. But every time I go to the eye doctor's, all knowledge of the inconvenience of glasses is pulled right out of my head by cute half-frames and oversized cat's eyes, and I go through the process of picking out frames, bleary-eyed and headachy from the dilation drops.

This morning I chose some adorable plastic frames with a green tortoise shell pattern; they're small and rectangular. I was worried that M2 would think I was jumping on his "trendy frames" bandwagon, especially considering the comment he made on his blog about being hot and wearing trendy fashion items. But the frames called to me, and before I knew it, I had handed them to the technician and payed my bill. Look for my tan lines in a couple of months.