Aselin

I have always prided myself on my excellent vision. During my last vision check I scored a 20/10 and a 20/15. My under performing right eye has had to undergo rigorous training to try and catch up to the overachieving lefty. The optometrist gave me a sticker. I still have it. I’m pretty sure he talks about me at parties, being his favorite, most amazing bionic patient and all.

My family is highly dependent on my superpowers. I act as the navigator for our outings since the driver is blind as a bat. OK, he has corrective lenses, but still, I can see better than him. I make everyone call me “Eagle-eye Maloney”

So imagine my dismay yesterday when driving along I can’t quite make out the upcoming sign. It’s all blurry. Stopped at a light, I clutch the steering wheel and lean forward a little. I’m squinting and contorting my face as I try and bring the sign into focus. Frustrated I stick my tongue out and give a loud razz. Of course, right after this I notice the three teenagers in the car next to me watching the whole performance. As I turn, they burst out into laughter and wave as they drive away. Not a high point for me.

Pulling into a drive through I realize I can’t make out the menu like I used to. The kids are hollering out their orders and I’m trying to find the items. I'm completely frustrated at my inability to bring the screen into clear focus. I can see the thing, I can read it OK, but it’s not clear like it should be.

Dang. Apparently I’m old. I am turning forty this year. People say that’s when it all starts to go downhill. I’ve just counted on being like my husband who hasn’t acted his age since he was 25. In a good way.

Well, I better go purchase some magnifying glasses at Walgreens and while I’m at it I’ll pick up some Metamucil and corn remover.

Resigned to the fact that I’m on the downhill slide, I carry on with my day being the stalwart soldier that I am.

Standing at the desk of the local YMCA I’m handed some paperwork to fill out. Filling out the redundant forms for three children I give myself a little pep talk about how great I can see close up. This new impairment is not a total visual decline, just far distances, which does make me feel better. I’m just going to have to give up bow hunting since I don’t want to pull a Cheney with my arrows on a hunting partner. My friends wouldn't be nearly as forgiving as his were. And I don't have that whole 'weight of the Federal Government" to coerce their magnanimity.

Turning to leave, I pick up my sunglasses and as I put them on I notice across both lenses is a thin layer of what seems to be dried mayonnaise. Yum. Nothing says fashion like a good case of food poisoning across your face. Somehow, while in my handbag some schmutz smeared my spectacles. On closer inspection I realize one of my lip glosses has come open and coated the entire inside of my bag with a veneer of slime.

Of course, being in the throes of aging mental decline it takes me a moment or to to realize that I can still see just fine. It’s my purse hygiene I need to work on.