Now I’ve got a card to play

So I went to the optometrist yesterday for the first time in two years. I haven’t gone until now because I don’t have optical insurance (grumble mumble toil and @#*&%!).

I make my contacts last as long as possible so I don’t have to buy new ones. My glasses broke in 2006 (!) and I’ve been doing the classy “wear them on one ear ‘opera glasses’ method” since nobody sees them but me. Yeah, it’s hot.

Grudgingly, I gave in and found the cheapest place (I hope) to buy glasses. Now, here’s the catch. If you have eyes like mine, you don’t ever, ever get “cheap” glasses. It’s a complete oxymoron. The frames alone have to meet certain specifications (which happen to make them part of the “fashionable” trends right now, so of course “cheap” is out of the question). And the lenses? Forget it. They’ll cost you your first child.

While sitting in the chair, gazing into the fog of my reality, and having the doctor school me on how contacts are different than glasses (no kidding, sherlock, i’ve basically worn both since I was in utero) I asked her, “So, what does your prescription have to be for you to be considered legally blind?”
She looks at me and says, “Oh girl, you’re it.”

Oh. Well, that’s nice. the first thing I think of is Three Blind Mice and wondering if my siblings are also legally blind like me. And how I don’t want anyone to “see how I run”.

The upside of this diagnosis swiftly overshadowed—or should I say, overfogged—the melody in my head. You see, now I can pull the pity card. “You wouldn’t make a blind girl pay a mortgage, you you?” If only it worked like that.

So yeah, that’s fun. Let’s get to the other good stuff: my glasses (one pair, mind you) cost $424.85.

Let it sink in.

Thankfully, I got a 50% discount because I paid them $20 for a nondescript plastic card. Whatever. I say take the $20 and give me my spectacles, you jerks.

You wouldn’t make a blind girl pay for corrective lenses, would you?

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