I Can See Clearly Now - Sort Of

During university, I was given an old black and white T.V. set that didn’t work very well. With my non-existent student income I couldn’t afford cable. Consequently, decent reception was a challenge. I did find however that if I stood in a certain spot on the floor and leaned to the left, the picture seemed to improve. Such were the contortions I had to go through in order to see anything.

I was reminded of that T.V. and my desperate antics this week as I contemplated my mid-life friends and our eyes.

This summer, my husband and I had another couple up to our cottage. The most coveted possession that weekend was not the hammock. It was not the latest copy of Cottage Life. It was not the only life jacket on the boat that fit properly. No. The most prized possession was the dollar store pair of reading glasses we keep on the windowsill in the kitchen.

All weekend our lively conversations about politics, work and life were interspersed with the words, “Where are the glasses?”

This was minor in comparison to what I go through in the mornings in order to wear mascara and dry my hair. If I wear my contact lenses, I can’t focus on anything close and consequently, can’t see my eyelashes well enough to properly apply mascara. But, if I don’t wear my contact lenses, I can’t focus on things at a distance, which I need to do in order to properly style my hair.

Until I worked out an elaborate system of make-up, contacts, hair, there were many a day I left the house with: a) eye make-up reminiscent of Tammy-Faye Baker’s; b) a hair-do reminiscent of the bride of Frankenstein’s; c) both.

I know I’m not the only one who has these issues. An acquaintance told me recently about trying mono-vision contact lenses after bi-focals didn’t agree with her.

One lens is for distance – things like driving or walking around. The other one is for close-up - things like reading or threading a needle. The brain is supposed to be able to adjust so that the wearer naturally relies more or less on one lens as needed.

After walking into three walls, having to close the distance eye in order to read anything and almost side-swiping a delivery truck on the freeway, she decided to give them up.

I suspect our efforts at adaptation won’t end any time soon. I strongly recommend we all begin developing the “knowing smile” for when our hearing starts to go yet we want to appear as if we’re following the conversation.

For more about the minutia of midlife: www.thebestkeptsecret.ca