Anything Lime

Once a year, needed or not

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the most responsible contact wearer. I’ve been slow to get through the pairs I ordered a year and a half ago, which clearly means I’m stretching the meaning of “disposable.”

So earlier this week I was at the eye doctor’s office located inside of a mall (first mistake.) this place is the kind of hell where bad eye doctors are sent into exile after years of disservice. While the doctor was kind, every other employee could be accurately categorized under one of the following: ditz, flake, bitch, idiot or spazz. (Sounds like a spin-off of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.)

One girl (who had a broken arm, by the way) was discussing the way her contact felt in her eye. “Can you see it?” she’d ask the other worker. “Is it on my eyeball.” I looked for something within reach to gouge out that contact, but then I was called into the exam room.

19 tests and 96 trips back and forth to the waiting room later, I had my prescription in hand and was waiting for a sales assistant to finish with her current client – herself. She was finding the perfect pair of glasses to compliment her square face. The pair she selected perfectly matched the color of the unkempt hair she had hanging tangly over each shoulder. She insisted on buying her own pair before assisting me. Having my eyes dilated and unable to read a damn thing, I just sat there and stared and the colored blobs moving around the room.

Meanwhile, Broken Arm was rambling on about how Tangly Hair’s most recent choice of glasses were similar to her other 394 plain brown pairs. “What do you want me to do, choose bright red ones?” She said, trying to be funny. I didn’t laugh.

Jokingly, she put on a pair of the red plastic frames, and tried to make a mockery of anyone who would wear such outrageous specs. I felt a little awkward when I asked her to pull my glasses out of the hold bin, a pair of hot pink plastic frames I’d put on hold a day earlier. By this time my eyes were still completely dilated, so I couldn’t really tell what she was doing. But the blurry blob looked as though she was putting her foot in her mouth, but we may never know.

The girls behind the counter made some high school-ish snickers, probably because of my outrageous mixed-berry glasses I just paid way too much money for. At least I didn’t have a broken arm from what I can only assume was the result of some horrendous cheerleading accident. Loser.

Yes, I admit it, these pink shades are DKNY. As unlike me as it is to wear designer brands, we met, fell in love and I whipped out my new business flex spending account card to pick up the bill.

So my flex spending plan has gone from being a tax-less convenience to a race to see how fast I can frivolously spend this generous amount of money I’ve designated for my medical expenses. See you at the finish line! (I’ll be the nerd in the overpriced, designer, break-your-arm-but-don’t-make-fun-of-my hot pink-ish glasses.)

Rate My Specs:


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  1. * Patrick says:

    Specs rating = A Perfect 10!

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 4 months ago
  2. * Aimee says:

    I can totally see why you fell in love with those specs. They are adorable! And, I wish I could have been the person to accompany you on this eye-checking adventure, as I would have given rude looks and made ruder comments to these employees.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 3 months ago

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