BUCKING THE SYSTEM: GLASSES MAKE SELF, OTHERS LOOK (ACT) DIFFERENT

After a 10-year hiatus, I've returned voluntarily to wearing my glasses. I'm seeing just fine, but I now have a different view of myself and some of my acquaintances.

I can't see.

For some people, that statement means only a momentary problem; something has happened that has temporarily obscured their vision.

For me, that statement is a fact of life.

I have worn glasses for as long as I can remember. I'm not one of those lucky people who can "kinda see" or "see if I squint." As soon as I wake up, even before I wash my face, my glasses go on. At night when I go to bed, I take the glasses off.

When I turned 16, my parents told me they'd buy me a pair of contacts because my doctor said they'd do a better job of correcting my vision. Six months and one laser surgery later, I came out with my very first pair of gas permeable contacts. They weren't the kind that everyone else wore, but I didn't care, because I had what I wanted most in the world.

You see, every child (and some adults) I knew had made at least one nasty joke about my glasses. Kids are mean, and when they have ammunition such as I provided them with, they can also be merciless. Sometimes it got so bad that I purposely tried to lose my glasses, knowing that if I didn't have them, I wouldn't have to go to school.

It wasn't so much that my contacts made me feel pretty as it was they made me feel normal. No longer would people call me Mr. MaGoo (my generation's equivalent to Steve Erkell) or compare my glasses to Coke bottles. My myopia was hidden from the world, and contacts were my salvation.

As you've probably guessed, my self-esteem was at ground zero before contacts. Although I was the No. 1 student in my class, an athlete, could sing and dance, and had a decent personality, none of that mattered because my glasses were soooo thick. I let them define my perception of me because so many other people did the same thing.

A week ago I did something I haven't done in seven years -- I ordered a pair of glasses. I wanted to see if I had changed in 10 years, and I wanted to prove to myself that my glasses don't identify who I am.

I had a few touchy moments, but Patrick shored me up well. He knew when and how to give just the right compliment to let me know it's OK, the glasses are fine and so am I. I needed that, because although he was supportive, a lot of other people I knew were not.

For the record, when a person asks you how you like their glasses, they want to know two things: Do you like the frames, and do the frames compliment their face. A running commentary/joke fest about the thickness of the glasses is unnecessary.

A couple of people took me right back to that tall, awkward teen-ager who once wished she'd just go blind and get it over with. But then I'd think to myself "You are the bomb. He/she has a small mind and should know better than to make a statement like that." That little pep talk was all I needed to get my confidence back up.

I'm planning to wear my glasses for a solid month before I return to the contacts, which are more convenient and give me a better field of vision. Maybe while I'm doing a story I'll see a child wearing glasses, and I'll see something that reminds me of the old Tamara.

I'll talk to him and let him know he'll survive the cruel jokes and plain old tactless statements people sometimes make. Then I'll trade glasses with him so he can see what REALLY bad vision looks like.

After looking through my glasses, the child will probably put his glasses back on, smile at me as compatriots do, and tell me something I already know:

I can't see.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.