Not Picky, Just Discriminating
This is the bravest post I’ve published so far.
Because I am displaying eight (!) photos of myself, all unflattering. In none of these photos am I the oh-so-young looking, semi-adorable sixty-year-old. No, I’m just your average sixty-year-old. Way too average.
But in my defense, I was just out running errands with my husband. It’s interesting how every time I run errands with him we end up at the Italian bakery. But I digress. I digress from the subject of ME. Anyhow, I wasn’t dressed up, my hair wasn’t washed, and the lighting was harsh. I’m really very cute. I really am. For sixty.
We had stopped at the optician to see if they could make prescription sunglasses for my husband. He’s smitten with sunglasses with a blue mirrored tint. So while he was haggling mightily (which is his third favorite thing after blue mirrored lenses and Italian cookies). I tried on glasses.
I wear contact lenses. I wear them from when I step out of the shower until I am ready for bed. I never wear glasses. But I like to try them on. I could one day stumble on a pair of glasses that will make me look stunning and smart. I would love a quirky, nerdy-chic look. Because I have a girl-crush on Diane Keaton.
I tried on quite a few pair. Some styles I loved and some I hated. There were hundreds of different frames to choose from. I took out my cell-phone and hit that little reverse thing on the camera and took pictures of me with the various styles. I figured I could look at the photos later and determine objectively if there was a style that would make me want to wear glasses again.
But here’s the crazy thing. When I got home and checked the pictures, they were ALL EXACTLY THE SAME!
I swear every pair was different. I swear that I loved some and hated some. There were good ones and bad ones. But how am I supposed to know what glasses to buy, if I can’t even tell the good ones from the bad ones?