The Day I got Contact Lenses.


I still remember that I was in 9th grade when I got contacts. I was in 7th grade when I got glasses. I still remember the day we went for the appointment. For some odd reason, call it being young, I thought glasses were so glamorous. Recalling that year, I don’t remember ANYBODY popular with glasses. Maybe there was, I just didn’t pay much attention, of course. I was too busy with my nose in the books. Regardless, the day of the appointment, I felt that I squinted (on purpose) but I’m pretty sure that I really struggled with the reading. Although the optometrist told me that it was a very low -.25 which is just reading glasses, I kind of hoorahed in my head. Little did I know that I would hate wearing my glasses and would be overcome with embarrassment. I took it to my English class, and I still remember the bell rang for us to change hours, and in that traffic-filled hallway, I dropped my glasses because they fell out of the glasses case, and I accidentally (I promise!) stepped on them and broke them. I eventually got them fixed, but I don’t think I ever wore them again. Unfortunately for that, my eyesight did get worse, but not SO much more worse. In 9th grade, my Dad finally agreed to me getting contact lenses saying that I was still so young. I somehow managed to tell him how many people I knew my age with contacts. My Dad had glass contacts (back in the day) and now wears disposable just like me, so he already had experience with it and thought it was too big of a responsibility and almost-risk for someone in 9th grade. Mind you, I hadn’t even turned Sweet Sixteen, yet. When I went to the eye doctor this time, he told me that it would be a good idea but it would be difficult because of all the cleaning you had to do before and after wear, putting them away before sleep, and all that jazz. I felt a little overwhelmed, but I told him I thought I was ready. So, then, he allowed me to try them on, and I tried THOUSANDS of times, and I was unable to get them to stick to my pupil. After THOUSANDS of times, the doctor was like: I guess these are not for you! And, right when he said it, my contact stuck to the pupil. Success! So, we filled out the order for the clear contacts, and my Dad also later took me to get colored contacts: green and gray, which I later wore in 11th grade with my newly grown out bangs and felt as if I could adjust to a new school, and that’s where I learned the value of being yourself. I, then, rejected wearing colored contacts, even for fun, and now wear my clear contacts with the happiness that they are doing their job and not acting as a fashion statement, so I guess you can say all in all… It’s been a great hindsight – PUN INTENDED! 🙂


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