Four-Eyed Fears: Will I Be Accepted With Glasses?

I started a new phase of my life yesterday. I got glasses.

In one way, the most obvious of ways, things are looking much clearer. I can now see off into the distance with clarity. This is good news for the rest of the Los Angeles driving community.

I can only hope to look as good as Rick Moranis did in glasses.

I can only hope to look as good as Rick Moranis did in glasses.

In another way, however, the future is looking a little hazier. How will I fare as a four-eyed freak? Will I fall into the Harry Potter camp or be enrolled in the Rick Moranis in Ghostbusters school? Will I be a sexy librarian or a homeless professor? Do I look smarter or like I’m trying too hard?

These questions are burning a hole in my brain. It hurts. Or perhaps it’s just my eyes adjusting to seeing the world so clearly. Is this how I used to see when I had 20/20 vision back in the day? There’s no way.

But on a more serious note, will the glasses community accept me with open arms? I wonder if there are any rules. Can I take my glasses off for reading? Am I only allowed to polish them with those cool felt wipes a certain amount of times each day? Is it acceptable to do the eyebrow raise over the glasses frame in a questioning manner whenever the hell I want?

I’m worried I look way more like Steve Urkel than Clark Kent. The lady at the glasses store (optometrist… or is it ophthalmologist… shit I need to start learning smart words now) said the pair I selected was “in” right now. But she was a saleswoman. And I picked the pair because my insurance covered the entire cost of the frames. Somewhere, a hipster is cursing my name for making a fiscally responsible decision instead of a trendy one.

I’ve never been one for trends. My fashion style has been described at different times as “East Cost bro,” “Too many Chicago shirts,” “You were in a frat, right?” and “Man you look like Jake Johnson.” I wonder if wearing glasses changes any of that. My not-so-secret hope is that people will look at me with my glasses on and say, “You must write and direct really cool movies, huh?” I’m not holding my breath for that reaction, though.

Is there a president of the Sovereign Nation of Glasses-ware I need to email or something? I’m worried that there’s a bunch of paperwork I need to fill out. I’ll feel a little more settled when I get some kind of four-eyed identification card. I picture my glasses ID coming with all kinds of benefits, such as:

  • A discount to wherever they still sell vinyl records.
  • 20% off tuition for masters’ degrees in biochemical engineering or science-fiction writing.
  • A wand made of holly with a phoenix feather core.
  • A free book with golden pages.
  • A sweet pocket protector.
  • A cool, hip poster that looks like an eye test with big and small letters, but is actually an expensive piece of an art.
  • One date with Zooey Deschanel.
I don't normally kiss on the first date, but I'll make an exception.

I don’t normally kiss on the first date, but I’ll make an exception.

  • A pair of flip-down shades like baseball players wear.
  • My Hogwarts acceptance letter.
  • Skinny jeans.
  • A sweet smoking pipe.

If anyone can let me know what I need to do to join the Sovereign Nation of Glasses-ware, please let me know. If you’re on the Council of Four-Eyed Elders and want to reject my application for Spectacle Citizenship, don’t sugar coat it. Shoot me straight and look past my lenses into my now magnified eyes and tell me it like it is.

But please don’t insult the frames. They’re affordable and they’re “in.” At least that’s what the nice eye-glasses lady said at the spectacle store.



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