You may call them reading glasses, but I’m sticking to ‘menu glasses’ since that’s when they have become mandatory for me. I’ve needed them for years, and it’s finally time to give in and admit my blindness, particularly when that dimly-lit restaurant augments its lack of light with a menu that uses a size 9 font in a faint gray color in fucking italics.
While I have embraced the opportunity for accessorizing, these glasses are more of a pain in the ass than a fun chance to show off coordinating colors. Sometimes, even with the right strength, they give me a headache or make me dizzy. Other times they don’t fit quite right and end up aching my nose or temples. Mostly they are a reminder, not entirely unwelcome, that I’m advancing in age like everyone, and am now part of the menu glasses crew. It’s a position my eyes have earned, and as long as I can still see, with whatever help one can get, I will be grateful.
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