I started wearing glasses in the fifth grade.
One day I was squinting at the chalkboard, trying to pretend I could still see what the teacher was writing. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in an optometrist’s office, on the verge of tears, because my mom had just picked out the ugliest plastic frames in the history of eyewear for me.
These frames didn’t whisper “nerd.” They screamed “NERRRD!” at full volume. I hated them, but I knew I needed them. And I was also starting to realize that I was (and still am) a big nerd. To no one’s surprise.
By my junior year of high school, I had graduated to contact lenses. Mostly for vanity, if I’m being honest. I wanted to see clearly without advertising my nerd status in thick Coke bottle glasses. Almost every time I’ve seen an optometrist since, I have left with a stronger prescription.
Year after year, my eyesight slowly but surely got worse. Not dramatically—just gradually enough to keep things interesting. A little more blur here. A little more squinting there.
Eventually, a few years ago, I was having trouble reading and seeing my computer clearly. So I graduated to progressive lenses. For both my glasses and my contacts.
Adding insult to injury, I still needed to use readers with my contacts. I had eyewear for my eyewear. What the actual fuck? It felt like my eyes hated me.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago.
I went in for my first eye exam since 2021. My most recent pair of glasses had broken, and I was quickly running out of the contacts I’d hoarded, stretching each pair to last as long as possible.
The optometrist ran the usual battery of tests. Letters on the wall. “Which is better, one or two?” Puff of air. She looked at my chart, then at me, and asked a question I wasn’t expecting: “Why are you wearing progressives?”
I explained my long history of worsening vision. She sighed and said, “Well, I’m not sure why, but your vision is a lot better now. You don’t need progressives. And your prescription doesn’t need to be so strong either.”
I just sat there, dumbfounded.
Excuse me? Did my eyes just turn back time?
At 53, it’s rare for me to get truly good news from doctors. Most appointments feel like a running inventory of what’s wearing out, breaking down, or needs “monitoring.”
When she told me my eyes were actually better for a change, I almost cried. For the first time that I can remember, my eyes seem to be turning back the hands of time, instead of marching boldly—and worryingly—toward possible blindness.
I’m thrilled to say I’m back in the “Single-Vision Club.” No progressives. No readers on top of contacts. I’m celebrating progress over my progressives. It’s like my eyes finally got the memo that less can sometimes be more.
Keep calm and 20/20 on!
Clint 🌈✌️
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FROM THE ARCHIVE
BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY
01-26 = Angela Davis (1944- ) = American activist and academic 🌈
01-26 = Ellen DeGeneres (1958- ) = American actor and comedian 🌈
01-26 = Paul Newman (1925-2008) = American actor and director 🌈
MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY
“If you’re playing a poker game and you look around the table and and can’t tell who the sucker is, it’s you.”
Paul Newman
The eyes have it!! Cheers Clint!!
I understand that one's eyes do get better as one ages. Did for me. Then cataracts arrived. Two surgeries. Seeing now almost perfectly! So there are gifts to getting older!
Fondly, Michael