A Trip to the Opticians!

Posted on October 10, 2013

I’m soon to have four eyes. I have known it has been coming as I have been squinting and straining my way through life for some time now; it is all part of being in your mid-forties.

Like any typical hypochondriac male, I have been putting this off for a while through fear of the optician stopping halfway through the test and saying…“Oh my God, I’m going to have to stop, please sit still while I get an ambulance!” An eye test can show up all manner of nasty things.

As it happened, it wasn’t all that bad and the lady testing me on her day off from modelling in the Sunday Express fashion magazine, gave me a thorough going over, finding a couple of stigmas, floaters and hardening retinas in the process. These are all apparently quite normal and are part and parcel of the joys of the aging process. Oh rapture.

When she quizzed me on the things that I have been struggling with most, I mentioned that I was finding it hard to see a cricket ball this summer until it clattered into my chest, head, ribs, testicles and worst of all, stumps.

“Oh you will probably find that is not just your eyes, because when you get to your age, your reactions, concentration and physical ability all fade as well” 

She fell just short of telling me that my penis was about to fall off but all the same she was doing little for my self-esteem and when you combine the above factors with the fact that I am also useless at cricket, it leaves my chances of ever scoring a fifty at around about the zero per cent mark.

Buoyed with enthusiasm from the lady who made me feel like I was approaching my 100th birthday, I was then introduced to Sam, a handsome young bloke employed specifically to emasculate me further as well as finding some me some vari-focals that I could place on my head without looking like Harry Hill or a sex offender….Or both!

Be warned, choosing glasses is not easy, especially as they are going to soon become a rather prominent feature on your head for years to come. Unless you are stuffed with cash, you can’t just change them to suit your mood like you would a shirt. I tried on one pair where the guy said they would look great if I was wearing a suit but I think that buying a load of suits for dog walking, popping to the pub or going to football, would be a bit of an unnecessary measure just to make my glasses look good.


My soon to be glasses

So, after trying thick ones thin ones, big one and small ones, I went for some half and half ones, prominent on the top and thin on the bottom (as pictured). What I really needed was a panel of X Factor judges buzzing me or putting me through to the next round but I did eventually find some courtesy of Sam, now bored rigid, lying through his teeth that they were just perfect for my head and jaw line.

“Oooh yes…Definitely…Perfect for you Mr Lethaby, they work for both smart and casual occasions.”

His pants weren’t on fire but I could definitely smell them smouldering.

I concluded that I looked a tit in all of them but lesser of a tit in the ones Sam chose, so I handed over an extortionate amount of cash and headed for the exit safe in the knowledge that when they arrive in a fortnight, at least I will give all my peers something to have a good old cackle at.

It’s no fun this getting old lark.

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