… glasses

To correct my shortsightedness, I got my first pair of glasses – a comically large aviator style – when I was 11 years old. They were hideous: tinted, too big for my face and wholly inappropriate for a child. I remember YorubaDad laughing when he first saw me in them. But credit to him, he did not interfere, and let me wear my folly for a couple of years until they broke in a dormitory ‘accident’ (let the quotation marks tell you all you need to know about this).

But I got older, and if not wiser, then at least more savvy about my facial furniture. I couldn’t tell you what shape of face I have, but I have learned what suits it. I know that nothing beats trying on loads and loads and loads of styles, even when conventional wisdom tells you a certain frame won’t complement your features. I know that silver frames are ageing, coloured frames and tinted lenses tend to make me look insane, I know that I best steer clear of round frames, and have learned that ‘zany’ stripes are really unflattering on me. My most recent eye test showed a miniscule change in my prescription, and so I have had the pleasure of selecting new spectacles. The ones I’ve gone for are standard issue ‘media wanker’ ones – a medium black frame, in a Wayfarer style.  I love them.

My glasses look like these, but aren't these. Sorry.

My glasses are, at this point in my life, an integral part of who I am, how the world sees me and how I see myself. My glasses are a necessity for clear vision, a handy prop for awkward or nervous or exciting moments. They are a clear sign that my gene pool is not especially lucky with eyesight – my older sister and immediate younger brother have joined me in spectacle-wearing in their adulthood, and both my parents have worn glasses for as long as I can remember. Only my youngest brother has emerged unscathed with 20:20 vision. As for the old and annoying adage that “boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses”, I can fully confirm that this is not the case. Evolutionarily speaking, I should be seeking out a partner with perfect vision to breed out the weakness in my gene pool. The thing is, if I love glasses, then I adore boys in glasses. Exhibit A for the defense:


Furthermore there’s this, Exhibit B:


I appear to have lost my train of thought…

That was it. Glasses. On cute boys. And in general. Ach, I give up. I’m going to go and determinedly search Google Images until I’ve seen every picture of cute bespectacled men on the entire internet. See you in a bit…


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