You may remember my recent visit to my highly talkative, slightly eccentric eye doctor during which we discussed his checkered dating history and current plan to “recycle” old girlfriends (See “Love Recycled -- Can You Move Forward by Going Back?”). We did, of course, eventually get around to talking about my eyes. The good news is that my cataracts are no worse; the bad news is that my eyesight is. No longer will I be able to get away with drugstore cheaters. I need honest-to-goodness prescription glasses now, just like I did when I was a child.
|And Your Point Is?|
Of course, I only need to wear them if I want to read, which means I don’t have to wear them all the time.......for now. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. And, of course, my distance vision is no longer what it was. What is? Oh well….
As I put on my sunglasses to leave, I mention how I always hate the look of those black, dilated eyes when I leave his office. He laughs and says, “During the Renaissance, women put drops in their eyes to get that look. It was considered beautiful. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘Belladonna’?”