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Show JdST STUFF S BY JAM Glasses run in my family. Both my brothers wear glasses and mom has a pair perched on her nose most of the time. My sister has a pair tucked away in the back of her junk drawer that she should wear when she reads, but she doesn't Dad was a pro. He had not just one pair, but three; his "looking glasses," his "seeing glasses" and his "reading" glasses; one pair to wear, one pair to have in his pocket and one pair to be continuously lost. "Where the & are my glasses!" was a common exclamation in our house. With such a lineage for lenses, it was no surprise when I started squinting to read the billboards and to see the movie screen. So a few years ago, I too joined the ranks of glasses-wearer, par excellence. And, contrary to my lack of luck, lack of coordination and lack of organization, I haven't lost them, haven't broken them, I have actually actu-ally done quite well with my glasses. Until recently. I purposely put my glasses in my purse last week when my office was being relocated. I didn't want them getting broken in the move. Later, when I reached for them in the depths of my handbag, I came out with two monocles with ear stems. Someone had set something on my purse and, consequently, on my glasses. I was in the market for a new pair of spectacles. Now, picking out new glasses is not as easy as it may sound. First, finding a frame that fits one's face and feels like it looks fairly fine is a tedious task. There are plastic frames and wire frames, fun frames and serious frames, plain-Jane frames and designer-name frames. And then there's the lenses tinted or clear, plastic or glass, unclouded un-clouded or gradient. You can have them scratch proof, ultra-violet proof, and who-knows-what-else proof. Of course, glasses aren't merely an accessory (especially if they're accessing your eye sight!). Unlike a pair of earrings or cufflinks, one does not just buzz into the local optical shop and pick up a pair and prop them on their proboscis. Like a silk skirt or a fine tailored jacket, they must be fitted, and being an optician is apparently as art in and of its self. There's more to glass fitting than pinching the nose piece, twisting the frame and bending the heck out of the stems. After much pinching and poking, bending and flexing, my glasses finally fit and I assumed I was set for a few frame fitting free years. I was wrong. Just the other day the nose piece fell off my glasses; the fitting fete started again. I've decided spectacles can be a pain in the elass-es! |