I got contacts last week. I went to Kaiser, and a not-very-patient eye doctor (Dr. Augustine from last Friday's haiku) stuck his fingers in my eyes to put the lenses in and then looked on in exasperation as I tried in vain to stick my own fingers in my eyes to get them out. The implication was that everyone else is just picks them out on the first try, blink reflex or no, which I'm fairly certain isn't the case. Trauma. Also, mascara everywhere.
I'm getting better, though. The key to putting them in, it seems, is not letting them turn inside out on my fingertip. And I just need to get a handle on the "reach in, slide, and pinch" motion, and I'll be picking them out like it's nothing.
It's strange to not wear my glasses. I feel exposed without them, and like I'm missing something--when I got in the car to leave Kaiser, I reached over to grab them and put them on before I realized I didn't need them to drive. Since I've always had heavy frames of the 50s-nerd variety, I worry a little that people won't recognize me without them, and my cousin told me yesterday that I'm harder to pick out of a crowd now. I plan to wear them some days, just because I like them, and because my new frames are blue and orange, and I don't want to let that go to waste. They're me, covered up a little; this is me, out there for everyone to see.
What's strangest and most disturbing to me about my naked face, I think, is how much I look like myself as a baby. There's a certain picture I'm thinking of--I'm maybe seven or eight months, and I'm wearing pink, and I'm kind of gnawing on this doll (it's a really attractive photo, as you can probably imagine). And when I look in the mirror, I see that my ears are crooked and my eyebrows are the same as they were then--I don't know why I thought I'd look different, but I think my glasses gave me the illusion of symmetry. It's especially noticeable when my hair is pulled back, and now I have ample reason never to shave my head. Apparently, I...look like myself. Who knew?