I decided to get big loud black-rimmed glasses in my ongoing effort to make my tiny face look slightly more normal sized. I have decided the way to minimize my face’s apparently freakish smallness is to have short hair–so you can see as much of my face as possible at all times–and big glasses–thinking, I guess, that people will say “hey look how big those glasses are, that beautiful woman must have a normal sized face,” instead of what they probably really say, which is “look at that poor sick little boy.”
The history of my glasses over the past 15 years is the history of them getting bigger and bigger and darker and darker. Gone are the tasteful thin tortoiseshells of high school and college! I’m going back to basics, back to those unfortunate epochs during which I was too young to know what I was doing but too headstrong to take gentle guidance, and ended up with a series of genuinely hilarious frames, in all colors of the rainbow, with crazy z-shaped arms and gold details.
When I bought my new glasses it was bananas in there because they were having a 30% off sale. Their machine was broken so they asked if I could just pay for the glasses when I actually picked them up; I said okay.
They came in today and I went to get them. A nice older man did my fitting. He asked me what I did for a living, and when I told him, he said “Hmmm, music history, now what is THAT?” which is a response I admit I haven’t heard before. “Well,” I said, “it’s…the history of music.” This got us talking about culture and how when you study music you also study culture. He said that seemed true to him because when he was a kid he loved the Beatles and his parents were worried he was on drugs. “That’s culture!” he said. I agreed. Then he said “I just want to learn some new stuff before I die!” which I thought was a great sentiment and I told him so.
He said I was free to go. I said, “don’t I owe some money on these?” and he said no.
I knew I did, though. But I didn’t say anything, and just left. As I neared my car, my steps slowed. The dollar amount loomed over my head like a dreadful scarlet number, branding me a thief for all to see. I got all the way to my car and then decided I couldn’t stand it. I went back in, and demanded that they look up my record so I could pay them what I owed. They looked it up, and said “no, your balance is zero! You must have paid and forgotten about it.” Again, I could have left, but instead I asked them to check again or call headquarters or get a specialist in here, something, anything, for I must pay my bill else risk eternal hellfire! I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU LET ME GIVE YOU MONEY. It took like 10 minutes but they finally figured out someone had entered something wrong. They clearly would never have discovered the error if I hadn’t said anything. The worst part was that they all seemed to think I was legitimately a weirdo, for wanting to pay my bill, and you know what, they’re right!
My parents raised me wrong. I didn’t want to steal $60 worth of merchandise from KAISER PERMANENTE? I am living a nightmare
Anyway, whether or not the new glasses are loud enough to cover up the lack of presence of a face on my head, I am not sure. When I picked them out, the lady said–as glasses ladies always say, to me–“it’s just that you have SUCH a small face.” I really think they would prefer to have me try on children’s glasses, but the arms aren’t wide enough. Like how when I donate blood I have to use a child’s bag. You can tell they’re just like, thanks for the effort but this really isn’t worth it. There isn’t even a normal amount of blood in my body. And yet I appear to be a human of average size, for example in photographs I do not appear elvishly tiny next to friends and family. It’s like a bunch of grotesquely small parts fused together into a normal-sized human, and it’s a physical paradox that ought to cause a wormhole, for how can the circles be concentric yet each the same size? (Dante’s Empyrean reference, it’s about the holy trinity)
How can you have a small face? It doesn’t make sense. There’s a head, and the whole front of it is the face. How can the face be small but not the head? Yet somehow it is true; my face seems freakishly small, like a little mouse face on a human body. It doesn’t help that everything on the face is the same color (“bandaid”). Basically my face disappears unless I stick huge glasses on it. Really I should wear bright red lipstick, were it not for the aforementioned bandaid color problem.
Oh lord. Who can ever solve these dilemmas.
Anyway, that’s the story of how I was too honest to bilk Kaiser Permanente out of $60. What an asshole.
Postscript for all my friends who use zenni optical, listen to this tale of woe! My prescription is so toxically strong that zenni charges me an extra $40 on top of whatever frames/lenses I get. So not for me is the fun spirited purchase of 14 pairs of glasses, one for every type of occasion! In conclusion, can you believe that shit????
Also, my optometrist told me I’m too old to get Lasik, because I’ll just need bifocals in 5 years so what’s the point. I said “I waited too long, and now I just have to wear glasses until I die?” and she said “Yes.” On the plus side, I finally started wearing sunscreen.