Those of you who have squinted along with me in sympathetic union will be glad to hear that I have finally made the decision: The time has come for me to wear reading glasses.
It is easy to be bummed over something like this because, after all, it is evidence that your body is starting to shut down for its eternal sleep.
First, your hair turns grey, falls out and then your eyes start to fail. Next comes the bladder and then the bowels.
Our bodies are designed to last only until we procreate and our children are old enough to kill their own mastodon.
But I am bringing a healthy outlook to this furthering step in my degradation. I am embracing it. I will not be one of those people who hold out the jar of olives as far as I can reach to discern the amount of sodium contained within.
I pledge to keep my reading glasses with me and I will use them whenever needed.
Indeed, if I can find a suitable chain (or leather, yeah, leather would be nice) I will hang them around my neck.
Yeah, I know the stereotype is of old ladies using these, but I have seen men use them, too. And at least two of them, who were at least 10 years older than I at the time, could wrestle me to a hard landing while eating pudding at the same time.
By hanging their reading glasses from their neck they are telling the world, “You will have to judge my virility on something else because I refuse to allow failing eyesight to define me.”
Wow! How macho can you get?
Macho? Poor choice of words there … let’s try confident, unapologetic, proud.
I say this because women, too, send the same message with their choice to boldly show their age.
A couple of years ago, I was in a meeting with 20 people. At the end of the table, Karen Walker pulled out her ornamental fan and started waving herself. Those who did not know her were taken back a bit and she just levelled an almost understanding glance at them and said, right out loud, “Hot flash.”
Be still my beating heart.
There is a reason why those of us over 40 deserve respect and that was it … right there. We can be all business when we need to be and we don’t act silly about silly things.
You young whipper snappers can rely on us because we won’t be late because we were stuck in the bathroom having a bad-hair day.
Ageing happens and we deal with it.
Just as these men and women have encouraged me to not be ashamed of growing old, I hope that the public display of my own reading glasses will encourage others to be just as mature (a little play on words there … but you know what I mean).
May I offer some advice to those of you out there still squinting? Go for it. Reading glasses are great.
When I put on my reading glasses, people tend to leave me alone because they know I am reading.
And there is something comforting in not being able to see anything except the words in front of you. Everything else is a blur. It is like you are in a bubble of pleasant contemplation.
Similarly, when you take off your glasses, you send a signal to the world (well, the room at least) that you are ready for action.
Then there is the drama you can create: I think I will get a webcam for my computer so I can peer at my writers over my glasses when they have displeased me: “So sorry, Mr. Hookey, Sir … you don’t like serial commas. I knew that. I knew that!”
Who needs The Force when you have reading glasses?
Did you see Charles Gibson’s interview with Sarah Palin? Did you see how he worked those reading glasses? Yeah, just like that. The next time a store clerk answers a telephone while they are serving me, I am going to unfold those specs, put them on and look at them just like that.
That’s just how we old people with presbyopia roll, baby. That’s how we roll.
