Eye heart you

I got my first pair of glasses when I was eighteen months old, so I never really had to "adjust" to whatever trauma glasses introduce to a life. My first pair were thick pink plastic frames that wrapped around my ears so I wouldn't pull them off. They (whoever "they" are, see Elizabethtown) told my mom to tie my glasses to my hair so that if I tried to pull the glasses off, it would pull my hair and I'd learn not to pull. Apparently the method was never applied; I was so attached to my glasses that I wouldn't let my parents take them off when I went to sleep--they'd have to wait for me to fall asleep.

I should insert a cute picture of me here, but I don't have any on my computer. So pretend me as a toddler with thick glasses--did I mention that the lenses were thicker than the frames?

I'm going to skip through the elementary years, when I was the girl with glasses to ninth grade. That was the year I convinced my parents I had to have contacts. I got them for Christmas and began to learn the art of poking myself in the eye every morning.

I left junior high and went to high school and almost no one knew that I had ever been the girl with glasses. But that was a huge part of me. It surprised me when people were surprised that I wore contacts. It still surprises me.

Before my freshman year at BYU began, I decided to get my first pair of glasses in. . . however many years. I can't do the math. Three and a half? Sure. Sounds good. Thanks to technology, my lenses had gotten thinner. I alternated my glasses and contacts that year, the next year, and then the headaches began. I thought the cause was my contacts, so I wore my glasses all the time, but the headaches didn't go away. I couldn't see the boards in classes. . . it was what most kids go through the first time they get glasses, but in reverse.

A trip to the eye doctor revealed that my perscription had changed significantly, for the better. I got new contacts and some cheap reading glasses and I was set. But my persciption kept (and keeps) jumping around, so my eye doctor advised against new glasses. Until this last trip.

Wait? Did you catch that? Do you know what that means?

Yep. Exactly. I'll be a four-eyes again. But you know what they say. . . No, not "Guys don't make passes for girls who wear glasses." What they say is. . .

Four eyes are better than two.