With more than ten years between eye exams I decided it must be time. Fortunate for me the eye doctor was a seriously funny man. He commented on my old glasses and on the fact that my prescription really hadn’t changed much saying, “So the trip was pretty much a bust for you, although I made a tidy little fee. But at least you’ll get nifty new UPDATED frames and you’ll look far more presentable. ” This coming from a man so tall and thin if he turned sideways no one would see him. Seriously, he looked like a sheet paper in his white lab coat.
I then found myself before rows and rows and rows of frames. Round frames, square frames, skinny, fat, black, red and brown frames. It was frame heaven. But which one should I choose? The red ones? I’ve always threatened to wear uber hip spectacles with red frames. It would go with the pink hair…did I say pink, ha ha ha…yeah pink. That’s a totally different story and I’ll write about it as soon as I recover from the shock.
I hadn’t brought my overly critical teen, so I was on my own. The weight of choosing fell solely on my shoulders and I staggered under its weight. How could I pick cool specs on my own? I’m an idiot with no fashion sense! What was my family thinking by allowing me to leave the safety of my home to venture into the wide, wide world of eye fashion? This was going to be ugly. Simply ugly.
I did the only thing I could. I accosted a total stranger, explained my lack of critical teen, and asked her cruel opinion. She was happy to comply since she also has critical teens at home, four of them in fact (how she managed to escape to the mall without one of them in tow is a mystery that remains unsolved to this very day!).
Long story short, I got me some new, thin, uber hip eye wear. I just wish the rest of me looked this good!
In other news:
I bought a new purse. I know, I know, I know, lame! But you simply DO NOT understand. My mother, God bless her short little body, gave me a new purse for my birthday. In September. Which, I’m sorry to tell you mom, (tiny whispery voice)”I don’t like it”. I’ve been dragging this ugly, limp, dog pooh (yes, dog pooh) colored bag around with me since SEPTEMBER. Why didn’t I buy a new purse sooner?
It’s complicated.
I’m a purse snob. I have to love, love, love a purse before I buy it. It also has to be the right price. I soooo hate spendy bags that are just going to end up sitting on some public restroom floor, filled with used Starbucks napkins, and empty chewing gum wrappers. I’m sorry, but really girls, it’s just a purse. Except when I’m trying to buy one, then it some how morphs into the search for the Holy Grail.
I looked at the mall. $600.00 for a purse? It’s a purse, not a laptop. It didn’t speak French, or come with an alarm. It was a small bag with handles. I think it was made out of yak hair or something equally odd. The Yak purse was yucky in so many ways that I honestly wonder if it was smuggled in there by an ex-employee baring a grudge.
I browsed through Target, Ewwww! Enough said. Out of desperation, I even looked at the local drug store, but they only stocked my Omi’s purse however; black, beige, or dog pooh brown, with pockets so large you might just find Jimmy Hoffa squirreled away in one. Needless to say, I continued to haul around the ugly bag because I had nothing else.
A good purse is an important part of my life. In fact it carries my life. Wipes, Pull-up, gum, wallet, keys, extra batteries, pens, bills, lip balm, band-aid, and other assorted important doodads.
Then…last night…I found it…
It’s red, it’s not too big, and it has plenty of pockets and hiding places. Most importantly it was on sale for 40% off. It matches my iPod and my cell phone.
Isn’t it lovely?
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