A few days ago, I went to the eye doctor to see about getting a new prescription for contacts. I haven’t had to wear contacts for 16 years after having Lasik surgery when I was 28 years old. When I had the Lasik, the doctor warned me that around age 40, our eyes start to degenerate, and I would likely need a touch-up at that time. I was lucky that my eyes held their perfect vision for 15 years. However, last year I started to notice that my distance eyesight was starting to get pretty blurry. I made myself an appointment to see what a “touch up” would entail. Let me tell you, I walked out of that office knowing that I wasn’t willing to do what they wanted me to do. Without going into the gory details, a touch-up is WAY more invasive than the original Lasik procedure. And of course, no guarantees.

So, I broke down and made myself an eye appointment with my optometrist. I walked out with a new pair of glasses that I could use for driving and sports spectating. I really didn’t need them for anything else at that time. Fast forward 11 months, and now I am becoming very dependent on my glasses. As in, I can barely see at distances without them. But on top of that, I’ve been finding myself struggling to read the labels on my make-up, supplements, and food labels. Ughhhhhhh. So off I went to another eye appointment.

I found myself sitting in the chair waiting for the doctor, trying to convince myself that I will do fine with full-time glasses and contacts even though I despised them before – I mean, come on, it wasn’t that long ago that I had spent $5000 just to get rid of them. And then I think back to elementary school, when the entire class almost fell off their chairs in disbelief and laughter after a fellow classmate was moved two feet in front of the eye chart and still could not read anything under the letter E. Kids can be such a-holes. My mind continues to wander and wonder how we all made it through high school.

A young girl walks in and introduces herself as the doctor. Ummmmm, excuse me? She literally looks like she is 22 years old. But she’s nice and has great hair (it takes everything in me not to ask her if she uses MONAT), so I tell her what is going on with my vision. And boy does she love to talk. Chatter, chatter, chatter, bifocals, chatter, chatter, chatter. Ummmmm, what?!?! It was almost like she knew she was about to punch me in the face, so she thought she’d cover it with kisses first. Nice try, little girl, but I heard that dreaded word loud and clear. She continued to talk endlessly about how our eyes start to fail us in our early forties and so on. I honestly stopped listening. Even after popping in my trial contact lenses, all I could think about was that I was going to have to wear (GULP) bifocals. I somehow ended up at the front of the store with someone explaining all the different options. Blaine sent me a text asking how my eye appointment went, and I almost started crying when I typed out the response, “Welp. I am not happy.” $454 later (and I’m even re-using my old frames!), I sat in my car, staring at my hands, feeling sorry for myself. But mostly, I felt old. Damn you, old eyes!

And that’s when it hits me. The late Louise Hay pops into my head, and I can see and hear her saying that it’s time to do some “mirror work”. For those of you who don’t know, that means standing in front of a mirror and thanking yourself and/or your body parts for the amazing things they are capable of doing every day. Even the broken, old, disabled, ugly, and failing parts. So, I try it – “Thank you, eyes, for allowing me to see all the colors, shapes, faces, textures, depths, ocean waves, buildings, sunsets, my food (so I can pick out the onions), my family, my pets, for allowing me to walk down the street unassisted, for allowing me to drive, and to pick out my own clothes and put on my own make-up every day. I’m not blind. I can see, and with the new glasses, I will be able to see even better. And while I may be getting older, there are far too many people my age who are not given that same opportunity. I should be celebrating every day I am allowed to live this life, with or without my fuzzy vision.”

Wow! Louise Hay just might have been on to something!

Suddenly, getting bifocals and getting older doesn’t seem like such a bad thing at all!