My senior citizenry is beginning just a little too early for my taste. I documented my annoyance with my pubic hair back in October and I have discovered yet another age-related complaint. For the record, I'm still not sporting a merkin. . .yet!
I should probably stop claiming to be under-30 at this point, because I think I'm courting bifocals. Bi-freaking-focals! I wish I was just kidding, but I'm as serious as a heart attack.
It all started when I was pregnant at the end of last year. My eyes were so impossibly dry that I couldn't tolerate wearing contacts so, for the first time in more years than I care to admit, I began regularly wearing eyeglasses. It was fine at first, but I found myself slipping my specs down to the tip of my nose to see things clearly up close or to read fine print.
I knew what this meant, I've seen my hubs push his glasses out of the way enough times when trying to read, but I told myself it's just because I don't see as clearly with my glasses. And I really don't so that's not just my vanity talking. A couple of weeks after my miscarriage was complete, I started wearing my contacts again and I assumed all would be fine with my vision.
Guess what? I can't see anything up close or tiny. I can not see anywhere near as well as I used to. Plucking eyebrows? Impossible. Clipping my son's nails? Impossible. Reading a menu with ridiculously small type? Impossible. All of these things are impossible unless I take out my contacts and get waaay up close so I can see.
I've been nearsighted since I was twelve so I'm used to being blind, but this is just lame. Someone suggested that I buy a pair of readers to keep for when I'm trying to do things like read menus. . .friggin' reading glasses! The point of wearing contact lenses is that you don't have to wear freaking eyeglasses!
My blindness was apparent the other night, Valentine's, when I could not read the menu at dinner. I actually found myself gripping about the dimly lit restaurant and the minuscule font size on the menu. Aw, nuts! I'm not only blind and have greying pubic hair, but now I even sound old! Dammit!
I'm almost afraid to ask what's next. An ear horn? A walker? Predicting weather based on how my shoulder/knee/hip feels? Yelling at neighborhood kids to get off my lawn?! Talking incessantly about the good ol' days?!
Uh-oh, looks like I'm older than I thought!