Existing in a fuzzy, hazy, out-of-focus, blurry world for much of my 65+ years, I have often dreamed about what it would be like to have picture-perfect visual clarity. Perfect eyefuls sound heavenly. You 20/20 folks have no idea how nice it would be to wake up and not have to feel ones’ way to the toaster.

In third grade…

…it was an optically blurry chalkboard (allegedly due to a bad case of either chicken pox or measles) that called for my first pair of eyeglasses. And it was with great anticipation that I slipped on those baby blue, cat-eyed ‘peeper helpers’. Back in my classroom I blinked with undeniable amazement; my eyes no longer squinting in order to make out the blurry lettering. I somehow managed to withhold my desire to break out into a liturgical hallelujah dance routine. The printed letters, no longer hazy or oft-appearing cryptic, were now flawless specimens of chalking expertise. It was quite miraculous. But it was also when I discovered that the “friend” twisting around in her seat to launch many a smile my way had actually been sticking her tongue out at me.

I was probably twelve…

…when riding the “L” home from an overnight visit with a friend who lived on the Northside. Although not wearing my glasses I was repeatedly distracted by something moving about in my peripheral vision. My curiosity was piqued and so I donned my ‘helpers’ and took a gander. With my glasses positioned on my nose I lifted my head to check out what the heck was going on. Locking eyes with a gentleman seated kitty-corner from me I politely returned his broad, beaming smile. As my eyes traveled down toward the ‘moving about’, it took a moment for it to register why he was beaming…and that I had actually put my glasses ON in order to take a closer look. OH. MY. GOD. Was there a way I could take back the glance and the smile and exit the freakin’ “L” immediately?! Thankfully he got off (no pun intended) the train and I returned home, in shock…but safe and sound.

As time went on…

…and my eyesight worsened…my vanity increased, as in, “boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses”. So I walked the halls of my high school in a blur; placing my glasses on my face the moment class began and slipping them off at the sound of the passing bell. I was quite possibly known as the friendliest student to ever roam those halls due to the fact that I waved to anyone appearing to be gesturing in my direction. And I became quite adept at recognizing physicality or committing to memory wardrobe selections of the day in order to recognize when one of my actual friends entered the picture. Hmmm…that could explain my lack of ability to recognize most of the people at my reunion. (or might have been my dumbfounded response to all those “old” people heading my way).

In my role as…

…a professional dancer I was used to moving in a fuzzy world –  as it was impossible to dance with spectacles resting on my nose. However, falling into an orchestra pit and several saved-by-my-fellow-dancers from walking off the edges of stages had become a nuisance…or more like…a major liability. So I was eager to try contact lenses in order to avoid any further damage. When onstage, I was always led to believe there was an audience out there – I was told people had bought tickets! But between my hazy peepers and blinding stage lights…I wasn’t so sure. The first time I stepped on stage, with those lenses firmly in place, I saw people. Lots of people. And they were looking right at me. It was both miraculous and downright alarming.

There is that surgery…

…but I believe it’s too late for me now. My aging, been around, not-as-young-as-they-once-were eyeballs have cataracts springing up. Although currently on hold and taking their own sweet time to ‘ripen’ I can only imagine, “I can see clearly now…”

So…

…I’m pretty much resigned to an eyeglasses-all-the-time existence. But I’ve found some lucidity in all that haze. I no longer need to wonder “where did I put my glasses NOW?” …as they are always on my face! Well…that is unless I happen to take them off, walk away and then let slip from memory where I had plunked them down – and then I am in deep doo-doo.