He clutched my shoulders and whispered loudly: How dare I say something like that.
Think something like that.
Did I have any idea how lucky I was to be here?
Courtesy of Alice Gregory; Getty Images
How had he raised such an ungrateful daughter?
He ripped hisglassesoff his face and thrust them into my hands, staring at me expectantly.
I put them on, looked up, and began to cry.
The Libyan Sibyls toenail.
The folds in Isaiahs robe.
My father, next to me, was silent and satisfied.
I was weeping for me.
I really did need glasses.
But I didnt get them for another seven years.
I wore glasses 99.9% of my waking life.
I put them on the moment I woke up and often fell asleep with them on.
As my prescription grew stronger, the lenses grew thicker and the glasses heavier.
They left red indents on the sides of my nose (according to my husband…
I couldnt see them) and throbbing pain behind my ears.
Every few years, I made an appointment with a laser eye surgery doctor.
The second one examined me and concluded that I was not a candidate forLasikbecause my eyeballs were too football-shaped.
Then a year-and-half ago, I got a haircut.
I used to be like you, she said, in a thick Milanese accent.
And then I got ICL.
Implantable contact lenses, she said.
Yes, it sounds gruesome, she went on, but you were out for the procedure.
She said it cost her $10,000 and it was the best money she had ever spent.
My eyes were not too bumpy, or football-shaped, or generally far-gone.
He could perform the surgery that same week if I wanted.
$10,000 to see, theyd say?
Then I guess I passed out.
I did not think of myself as looking good or bad, beautiful or ugly.
I was just wearing glasses.
It took months to adjust to the novelty of not having large pieces of plastic affixed to my face.
I still touch my temples and am surprised to feel them just… there, with no hinge nearby.
I love being able to read shampoo bottles in the shower and dive carelessly into bodies of water.
Its only now though that I realize how much I had been shielded from the world and its judgments.
Wearing glasses did not eliminate my vanity, but it dulled it greatly.
On a day-to-day basis I had felt exempt from beautyand groomingstandards and insulated from the aesthetic assessment of strangers.
I did not think of myself as looking good or bad, beautiful or ugly.
I was just wearing glasses.
I never applied makeup; if I felt the need, Id wear sunglasses instead.
My hair remained in a permanent pile atop my head.
I bought beautiful clothes but they seldom left the closet.
Now, without glasses, I can finally see myself.
My dark undereye circles are darker than I had assumed, and my big nose is bigger.
I can see my pores and my errant eyebrow hairs.
Now, for the first time, my face seems worth improving.
There is a self-indulgent pleasure in this daily routine, but also the sad, bad feeling of futility.
I think back to my seventh grade self, who, if asked, would have ratherdiedthan wear glasses.
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