My parents took me to the eye doctor right before my fourth birthday. In the examination room, I identified kites and birthday cakes instead of the ABC’s, because I didn’t know my letters yet. After a few other tests, the doctor told my parents I would need glasses – and an eye patch.
The glasses consumed half of my face, and I’m still not quite sure why I chose a maroon eye patch, embroidered with a stoic-looking unicorn head.
But, I really didn’t care. Maybe it was because I rarely looked in mirrors at age 4, and because the glasses were on my face, I forgot about them. Or maybe it was because nobody ever made fun of my glasses, seeing as all of my friends didn’t know a Linda sans spectacles.
Wearing the eye patch for an hour each day was annoying, but it wasn’t because of how I looked – it was because I could only look out of my left eye.
At age 22, I’m annoyed with my glasses because they make me self-conscious – not because my right eye is obstructed.
All day long, I can tell myself that nobody cares what form of corrective lens I’m wearing, but it doesn’t stop me caring about what people think when they see me in my glasses.
Perhaps Little Linda, with her bottle-cap glasses and felt eye patch, should remind me to care more about being comfortable with myself and less about what people are thinking.
Because, Little Linda wore her glasses and patch happily, so she could see. Not because they were cool or fashionable – because trust me, they weren’t.
Older Linda wears her contacts because she is comfortable in them looks great in them, and I can do more in them than in glasses.
And when I’ve had a long night in the newsroom and my eyes hurt from staring at a computer, I’ll wear my glasses the next day to relieve the pain. Choosing to wear my contacts instead of my glasses is ok as long as my main motivation is personal comfort, instead of other people’s judgment.
Most mornings, I wake up, throw on a T-shirt, a cardigan and my favorite pair of sneakers and put in the contacts, just like I put on the eye-patched glasses.
Now, as back then, I can see, and I’m comfortable.