78yo_Andrew_Jackson

Do you have a love-hate relationship with your glasses or lenses? Did you ever deliberately toss them or lose them—or hide them from a friend?

This page is for everyone who carries lenses around with them all day. It’s the first thing we touch in the morning, the last  at night. What do we share with all those who wear lenses, us Glassers? Help us find out by sharing your own Glassers story!

Click here to share your own Glassers story!

[wppf]

This is our story of glasses: yours, mine, Benjamin Franklin’s and the celebrity sporting a stunning pair. On this page, you share your story or research on glasses; your glasses origin story; how they work, or don’t; triumphs and troubles you’ve had with, or because of, lenses. If you don’t tell your story, nobody will. Share it here. Post a picture of your glasses and tell us how you feel about them. Let friends know it’s their turn!

 

Click here to view all “I Love my Glasses” Stories!

6 thoughts on ““I Hate My Glasses”

  1. Jonathan Butcher

    I was 15 years old and I had been wearing contact lenses for a year or two. It had taken me a long time and a huge amount of effort to become accustomed to wearing them, so I was a little paranoid about the health of my eyes and taking care of my contacts, which were far more expensive than they are now.

    While practising for a school play, I had to wear a cheap plastic mask with small eyeholes that curled back towards me face. The edges of this ghastly disguise were narrow and oddly sharp…

    At some point my friend and classmate whirled his arms around and accidentally smacked me across the face with his hand. The mask was dragged downwards and the edge of one of the eyeholes hit my eye, hard. When I took the mask off I noticed with slight panic that half of my vision was a blur, and my eye felt horribly uncomfortable. I told myself that the impact had just knocked the contact lens out of my eye, but a quick search of the floor and my clothes revealed nothing.

    In slight but sharp pain, I dashed to the bathroom and gazed into the mirror.

    -To be continued-

  2. Richard Key

    Four Eyes

    By 1967 I’d been wearing glasses about three years. This was way before designers thought there was any money to be made crafting frames for the nearsighted. Pretty much everyone who wore glasses back then looked like a dork. If you already looked like a dork without glasses, then you were really in trouble…

    So, one day I’m at Bob’s house and he’s rummaging around in my brother Bill’s forbidden music. He pulls out The Lovin’ Spoonful’s album and places it on the turntable. The next to last song—right before Summer In The City—is 4 Eyes. Bob turns the volume up loud and sings along with the record in a raucous pre-pubescent squeal. How many fingers… ha ha ha, he taunts as he dances around the room.

    With each replay of the chorus he holds up a different number of fingers. That was about when our friendship ended and our fortunes diverged, Bob heading upward into borderline popularity, and me joining the sixth grade band.

    -Richard Key

  3. Jane St. Clair

    I was only six years old when I flunked an eye test held at the Chicago Public Schools. A week later I was looking through a black contraption with goggles that looked like it belonged on a Russian submarine. I could barely make out the big E on top much less the rest of the chart, and the result was my first pair of glasses.

    But my parents, who had perfect vision, did not like my glasses and thought they detracted from my beauty. They encouraged me not to wear them in public, so I got used to keeping them in my pockets and slipping them on and off. It didn’t matter how often I tripped over things like big dogs or walked into white doors that blended into walls or that I could not see a volleyball much less a baseball in gym class. Junior Prom was particularly memorable when I walked into the band pit. As my glasses got thicker and thicker. I no longer found Mr. Magoo funny at all.

    -Jane St. Clair

  4. Nancy Gustafson

    LAST DATE

    Finally he asked for a date!
    We went to the library—a safe place
    to get to know each other,
    sat at a heavy oak table, chairs close together
    then opened our books as if to study.

    He began staring, leaning too close
    and looking through my coke-bottle glasses said
    Don’t ever marry anyone who is nearsighted.

    I stiffened my back,
    glared with myopic vision
    through the evidence of my inferiority…

    when he called for another date
    I pinched my nose and moaned
    Tho thorry, I’m having a thinuth attack
    and hung up the phone!

    -Nancy Gustafson

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.