It is day six of being a spectacle wearer.
And I have been feeling a little odd.
Strangely, it’s not the vanity issue that’s bothering me. I’ve had lots of compliments and Daddy Pig’s even said I look better with them than without. Erm, thanks. I think.
The oddness is coming from how I feel inside. Do you remember that Friends episode where Chandler has his nubbin (third nipple) removed only to discover that it is the source of all his humour?
Well glasses have kind of had the same effect on me. When I put them on, I literally cannot think of anything to say. Least of all something funny. The same thing happens when I try to write. Nothing comes. There is no wit and my fluency with words has disappeared. I can barely string a sentence together. Beaver’s sentence structure is better than mine these days.
Take them off and hey presto!
So… words or sight? Which do I choose?
Forgive me for being a touch dramatic here but wearing glasses is a little bit like being imprisoned. Not that I have been to jail. All that much.
Because I like writing. I like talking. And they’ve never not come naturally to me. One of my school reports once said, ‘A model student. If she didn’t talk quite so much.’ Daddy Pig says that’s why I’ve got arthritis of the jaw.
All I want to do is take them off so I can see things properly but I can’t because that’s the very reason I’m wearing them in the first place. Oh the irony. Is this what claustrophobia feels like?
I’ve honestly never given any thought to wearing glasses until now. Not how I’d feel myself or how the millions of people who wear them so casually and without complaint must feel. Now? Well, I have a complete and utter respect for spectacle wearers. I don’t know how they’ve been doing it all these years. I really don’t.
I do know why Clark Kent took his glasses off to become Superman though. It wasn’t because he was worried about scratched lenses from a flying bit of kryptonite. Or because they didn’t go with his onesie. Or because he should have gone to Specsavers. Nope. His powers just didn’t work when he had his specs on.
And neither do mine.
So, I just have to hope that this feeling passes and that soon I’ll be able to think again. In the meantime, it’s unusually quiet in our house.
Aside from the odd contented sigh from Daddy Pig who, now I come to think of it, seems to be enjoying the silence a little too much.
I look better in glasses, eh? I know his game.