THESE WILL SOON BE ON MY FACE.
Insurance is a tremendous thing, especially when it includes a kick-ass vision plan that allows one to purchase highfalutin' frames at a tremendous discount. When I was a kid, my hand was forced: I had to choose my eyeglasses off "The Rack" (no in-depth explanation needed for those in the know). Suffice it to say it's not the rack used as a torture device, although I'm sure my meek, myopic 10-year-old self would argue I suffered on the playground nearly as much as Guy Fawkes in the Tower of London.
Perhaps I overcompensated for these deeply entrenched socioeconomic insecurities by springing for a pair of hand-painted Ronit Furst specs tonight (pic shown above). What the hell — it's almost Mother's Day, and they were all out of pince-nez.
Today's theme is ...
VISION, OR LACK THEREOF (literal or metaphorical)
This myopia
Is not a utopia.
Stupid cornea!
—J.A.G.
If you want more of me on Twitter, @WarriorHauswife is where you should go.
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