I have needed to go for an eyetest for a long time. It is one of those things that in the mix of juggling parenting and other stuff gets missed off my schedule.
However, family members were picking up that I cannot now read without recipe books and so on pinned to my face so I capitulated and made an appointement. Or tried to.
Despite the fact that the optician's was empty apart from staff, they could not see me on the first day I turned up. What they did do was take all my details to the far end of the proverbial fart. How tedious and why exactly do they need to take your fingerprints and do a DNA swab just so you can have your eyes tested?
The receptionist asked me what was wrong with my eyes to which I tried not to say that perhaps if they let me see an optiican we might actually find out.
I stumbled out ranting to myself (I am rapidly becoming the Grumpy Old Woman) and nearly got knocked down by a white van. I told you I needed my eyes testing!
The next day, I turned up for my eye test. The optician was very nice and put me at my ease. Not bad for a bloke as I hate that bit where they come at you with that torch thing. Far too close for my personal space comfort. The diagnosis was that yes I needed new glasses. This was a)because my short-sightedness had got worse and b)because my current pair are scratched and neglected so that they are more Jack Duckworth than Christian Dior.
On the difficulties with reading, the optician said I had reached the "Magic Age". He said this term over and over I think trying to get across to me that I am now very aged and it is all downhill from here.
Then he asked if I would like the OCT which is where they take photographs of your eye which make your eye look like a map or summat. He gave me some information about all the scary conditions that the OCT could highlight early. Alzheimers was there but spelt wrong which I pointed out to him. Apparently, nobody had seen this before - they must need their eyes testing!
Anyway, the pictures were fascinating. How we put ourselves down all too often when even something as small as the eye is so superb. The only cause for concern in my eye is a thin optic nerve. As someone who is way too overweight, I will settle for having one part of my body that is slim!
Next, I was transferred to the woman who would help me choose my new frames and lenses. I went straight for a purple pair and liked them lots. Purple is one of those colours that I always love. Of course, it is against the laws of female nature to go for the first pair without trying on some more lovelies. I tried a couple more pairs but obviously could barely see without pinning my face to the mirror. Then I saw some leopardskin ones and thought I should try them. If I have reached the "magic age", maybe I should go all wild at last. I put them on and they looked terrible.
"Oooo, no! Mutton dressed as lamb. Far too Bet Lynch" I said.
So I settled on the first purple pair and went to the counter to say that no I did not want the latest lenses at three times the price of the basics. As my mind wandered whilst the woman keyed in my details onto her computer, I took a look at her face. There sat a pair of the Bet Lynch glasses. Why do these things always happen to me?
Glasses have apparently now arrived in the shop so once I sort my provisional licence out, driving lessons will be unavoidable.
Wish me luck!
When did you realise you had hit the "Magic Age" and how did you cope with the revelation?
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