I stared at the display of eyeglass frames when a saleslady strolled over to me. “Can I help you find something?”
“No thank you. I’m just looking.” I kept my tone light, hoping the lady would take the hint and give me some space. She didn’t.
“What kind of frames are you looking for? We have lots of options depending on the size, shape, color, style …”
“I’m not sure.” I glanced at the door. “I’m kind of waiting for my husband to come back from the sporting goods store. I thought I’d get his opinion.”
“Okay,” she said. “In the meantime, we can pick out a few options.”
She was persistent.
“Let’s see …” She handed me a pair of frames. “With your face shape and hair color, these might be nice. What do you think?”
So, I guess we’re doing this.
I took off my glasses, slipped on the frames, and leaned in toward the mirror. “Um … I don’t think so. Not really my style.”
“No problem,” she said, already searching for another pair. While she looked, I thought about how much I disliked wearing glasses.
I got my first pair way back in fourth grade—and I’ve never been a fan. To me, they’re a pain. When you walk in the rain, you can’t see where you’re going. When you step inside on a cold winter day, they fog up. And when I played a sport, they often got in the way. I’ll never forget the pain and embarrassment during a dodgeball game in my grade school gym class. That red rubber ball smacked me right in the face and sent my glasses flying.
But of all the annoyances, my least favorite part about wearing glasses was picking them out. For some reason, I always thought they looked fine on everyone else, but I hated them on me. Thank goodness for contact lenses. But I still needed some backup glasses when I couldn’t wear my contacts. Like today.
My husband interrupted my thoughts. “I’m back. Did you find some?”
I shook my head.
He tapped his chin, scanning the wall. “Here. Try these.”
I slipped them on and crinkled my top lip. “They’re round. I look like John Lennon.” I took them off and handed them back.
He chose a different pair. “What about these?”
I exhaled. “They’re too big. And black frames look weird on me. I look like an owl.”
He shrugged and walked over to a nearby display. When he returned, he set another pair on the counter in front of me. I looked them over and rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding me?” Now he was just being ridiculous. “These are the dorkiest pair yet.”
“Just try them.”
I slipped them on and looked in the mirror. “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
I pointed at my face. “I look like a total geek.”
He busted out in laughter. “Those are your glasses. The ones you wore in here today.”
Oh.
I guess I just needed to get a little perspective. Love may be blind, but marriage can be a real eye-opener.
