From the time I was in my 20s, I have been assured that one day I'd have to wear glasses. Numerous folk informed me that it was just as they turned forty -- nearly to the day -- that their near vision failed them and they began wearing reading glasses. I held on to a little hope that I might make it a few extra years since my dad didn't need correction until closer to 45.
And I enjoyed those years without glasses. Friends would fuss with scratched lenses, broken frames and lost contacts -- a few even went under the laser to alleviate their vision-correction woes. All the while, I lazily cared for my $10 sunglasses, never giving much thought to the great gift that was my 20/20 vision.
Until this semester.
The first day in microbiology lab was an eye opener. Trying to focus the microscope proved more challenging that I expected...then I realized I was using one eye far more than the other, having to really concentrate to see the micrometer that was in the left lens. After a few weeks, our scope use dwindled and I went back to pretending my vision was just as it had always been.
Then a few weeks ago, I had to take a test at a computer. Two hours staring at a big blue screen left my eyes shaky for the rest of the day. So I surrendered. And while the optometrist was wowed by my distance vision, he readily recited the speech about our lenses becoming less elastic with age and that it happens to all of us as we turn 40. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was three months shy of the four decade mark.
Perhaps this signals the end of my procrastinating ways.