I’ve had reading glasses since kindergarten, but it wasn’t until freshman year of high school that I actually started wearing them more consistently as my eyesight’s worsened.
Every two years, my insurance covers a new set of frames, so committing on a swanky pair is no small task—after all, they will be on my face for the next two years, or at least whenever I can’t read road signs or follow class lectures.
As I look back on my selections over the years, it’s interesting and quite revealing to see how my tastes have changed—thank God—with each new pair.
2008 (9th grade)—I settled on a pair that’s somewhere between what a lawyer would wear, and what Sarah Palin sported during her VP bid. Needless to say, I haven’t really touched that pair in awhile.
2010 (10th grade)—My sophomore self had slightly better taste in eyewear. Simple black, rectangular frames were just fine and got the job done.
2012 (12th grade)—With a few more years under my belt, I decided to graduate to Ray-Bans. A fun, almost-but-not-quite cat-eye looking pair, which I now mostly use as spares.
2014 (college sophomore/junior year)—Classic Ray-Bans, or what are more commonly referred to as “nerd glasses.” I adore them still.
2016 (adult, I think)—TBD
I haven’t found a pair of regular glasses that I prefer to my 2014 frames, but figured hey, maybe it’s about time I get some prescription shades in my eyewear arsenal (I briefly contemplated some vintage-y horn-rims, but thought better of it).
But after four years of trial and error, I guess you could say I’ve developed a “type”…I had my eyes (literally) on the classic Ray-Ban wayfarers. I’ve owned several fake pairs over the years, but was ready for the real thing this time—I’d waited long enough.
I walked into the optometrist’s office, ready to order the wayfarers. I slipped on the sample pair to try on one final time, but much to my chagrin, the sales-person/bona fide eyewear expert matter-of-factly told me they weren’t right for me. Sure, they weren’t something I’d had much experience with, but was willing to test the waters. But double to my mortification, my insurance wasn’t going to cover the entire $250+ pricetag.
I mulled it over for the next few weeks. Like I said, I’m an analytical creature who likes to know what she’s getting into before jumping all in.
I again came back to the office after I’d made my decision.
Ultimately, I was willing to risk the extra dollars and if I wasn’t satisfied, oh well, I’ll get another in two years. No biggie. The sunglasses were fun, smart and made me feel more attractive. I was all in.
I looked around high and low for the frames but couldn’t find them. One of the salespersons at the front desk quickly informed me that another customer had purchased them just the day before, but I could order in another pair, although it wasn’t clear when exactly I’d have them.
During that 10-minute trip to the optometrist, I soon realized how didn’t realize before how much I had actually wanted that pair until the chance slipped away without my noticing. Yes, despite the pricetag, how “unsuited” the wayfarers might’ve been for me and the risk of losing them altogether.
I know what you’re thinking—it’s not a big deal, there’s another pair coming my way soon enough, and I have plenty more prescription updates to find one that I’ll stick with for the long haul.
I know that—I’m 22, not 12. But my insurance isn’t going to cover me forever.