A couple weeks ago, my mom and I had a discussion and decided it was finally time for me to try contacts. I’d been wanting to get them since I found out they existed 7 or so years ago. I’ve had glasses for 12 years, and I’ve always wondered what it would be like not to have them anymore.
Dumb as it sounds, I kind of thought I would have that movie moment where I put the contacts in and I run down the street happily in a flowy red dress, my self-confidence at an all time high.
The funny thing is, that’s the exact opposite of what happened.
We couldn’t quite get the contacts to work properly, and every time I tried it would get frustrating. It turns out with my having an astigmatism, I’ll have to try multiple kinds for me to be able to see completely. Besides that, whenever I would look in the mirror, I would burst into tears, because it just didn’t look like me.
And maybe at a different time in my life this wouldn’t be such a big deal, the absence of plastic frames on my face. But with all the other things happening right now, my lifestyle changing a lot, my weight only now starting to be consistently the same, and my teenage acne still, well, existing, getting rid of something that had been around for over a decade was really jarring.
At a time in my life where what me means is a confusing question to answer, I think it’s best I don’t mess with the things I know to be true, like that for most of my life, I’ve seen the world through two panes of plastic hovering over my face. And right now, that’s just a part of who I am, as silly as it seems.
Newfound Grace. 