2 min

Man bait vision

Refusing to make a spectacle of myself

My friend was wearing a pair of black Ray-Bans, her hair covered with a silk scarf that was tied under her chin like a spy.

“Can you see anything?” I asked as I led her from the waiting room of the LASIK clinic.

“It feels like my eyes are dilated.”

LASIK surgery looks better and better the older I get. Thanks to astigmatism, all my glasses are special ordered and expensive unless I want to look like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. Even with those modifications, people still get a head rush if they look sideways through my lenses.

I went back to glasses full-time in 2000 after I tore a $600 contact lens that was only a couple of months old. My glasses weren’t meant for public consumption at the time, making bartending in The Castro challenging. I wouldn’t have earned the tips to buy a nicer pair were it not for my creatine tits.

The only contacts I wear now are what I call my “vanity lenses”— disposables that let me see without bumping into things. I told my optometrist I wanted them for sports, but they’re really to get laid. I learned that lesson after I left my glasses in my room at a bathhouse and a friend insisted on pushing my blind ass into people and rooms.

I started wearing contacts to yoga after I got fed up with my glasses sliding down my face. Maybe it was the small boost of confidence, or that I held my head higher without the crushing weight of my glasses, but I was cruised on that walk to class more than in all of my classes combined.

It took me an hour to convince myself this hot guy was seriously checking me out. Only problem was, I can see so little with my contacts I was practically standing on top of him before I knew if I was interested or not. He wasn’t by then.

The arm broke off my glasses a couple of days later, relegating me to my spare pair, otherwise known as my Magoos. You could shoot an IMAX movie with these things.

I love them because it’s impossible for me to look over the top of the frame. They’re great for parties and finding my glasses, but you need to be rich to pull these suckers off 24/7, and I ain’t. They’re not exactly what you would call man bait.

“I want you to witness this,” my friend said, then pulled out her glasses and threw them onto a heaping pile of spectacles.

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and not put on my glasses. I can’t wait.”

Me too, sister. Me too.