Something here in the office is really raping my eyes. I’ll be fine all day at home, then within an hour or so upon arrival here, my eyes get all bloodshot and start to sting. I’m sure I look really hot. Like one of those Mother Mary statues with the bleeding eyes.
Especially once it starts making my nose sniffle.
Yesterday, I brought my contact case, saline solution, and glasses. I was hoping to not have to resort to such drastic measures, but by 6:00, my eyes were waving the white flag. Out came the contacts, on went the glasses.
Now. I’ve grown rather acclimated to the big ol’ glasses. As long as I’m not walking, eating, typing, jump-roping, driving, looking left or descending stairs, I seem to be fine. However, there’s the whole vanity thing. In public, I turn into that 12-year-old girl who doesn’t want the boys to see her eating in the cafeteria.
I didn’t want anyone here to see me in my big gay glasses.
One of the analysts saw them on my desk and declared that they were cute. She caught me wearing them later and reiterated, “Yep, those are cute.”
But Chris was working last night, and I was sure that he would make fun of me. So every time I heard approaching footsteps, I flung the glasses off and all but beat them into a corner with a hot poker. Chris quickly caught on to what was happening here, and it soon turned into a game. He started making sneak attacks, approaching me quietly from behind, in hopes of catching me bespectacled.
“Green glasses!” he yelled, running by. So much hate.
(What the hell, he just came over and asked, “Where are the goggles?”)
Today, I didn’t even bother putting the contacts in at all. My eyes are fucked. I don’t know what’s going on because I have a brand new stock, I broke that bad habit of sleeping in them, and I never wear them longer than 2 weeks. Basically, I began acting like a responsible adult. But I feel like even when my contact habits were atrociously juvenile, I never had this much of an optical shitstorm blowing through my life.
I’m trying not to think the worst. It could be that I sit beneath a vent. Maybe my eyes are having a disagreement with the new saline solution I’m using. I’m trying not to let my mind succumb to all the worst case scenarious: I’m losing my eye sight. I have an optic disease with no cure. Satan is sucking out my eye juices with a straw each night while I’m dreaming of Andy Gibb in Revolutionary War garb.
It’s obviously time to go back to the doctor and demand help.
I haven’t worn my glasses here yet today, squinting instead and pawing at the air around me like a mole. S was walking past when I got here and, seeing them splayed out on my desk, exclaimed, “Nice glasses!” Then she wanted me to put them on. I vehementally refused, face growing red.
“Big glasses are coming back!” she reasoned.
I let one of the processors see them, only because he had been privy to the whole debacle of ordering them in the first place.
“They’re not…..that bad,” he said, thoughtfully, tilting his head a little to take in all angles of the garishness.
“I suppose not,” I started, “but I would have preferred a better color. Like, invisible.”
“Look on the brightside,” he offered. “You have your own miniature telescope.”
What an asshole, am I right.
The sad part is that I actually see better with the glasses than with contacts, but still choose to wear contacts 90% of the time.
G is wearing her homemade piece of shit tank top from her Granny Strippers line, so it’s actually a good thing I can’t see tonight.