[I’m on a] Contact High
When I was younger, I insisted that I would never, ever, ever, ever, ever*get glasses. I had great vision. For that matter, I swore I would never get braces either.
Of course, I probably jinxed myself by saying that and ended up with glasses. And braces. For years and years. Granted, my eyes are not that bad, but the point is, that I did need glasses. When I was younger, I would use them for reading and classes, but as I got older, I tended to just use them for everything. It’s easier that way.
Except when playing soccer.
I’ve been playing soccer since I was 11, before I needed glasses, and kept playing (minus the odd year off) until now, where I play on this rec league team with Poof and co, and I do need glasses. Case in point? Where we played a navy blue team last week and my team is more of a royal blue. I’m not great to begin with, so you can imagine that I’m terrible without glasses at all**.
And thus, I finally caved, since I’m off the parental insurance in a year and a half, since the world is blurry when I don’t wear glasses, and since Poof constantly teases me for wearing my sunglasses over my real glasses.
I got the contacts.
A big reason I never got contacts was because I’m really terrible at pain. I got five stitches once, and thought I was dying. The thought of putting things in my eyes where I could be potentially poking my own eyeball? Not good. Big fear.
Thus, when I was at the eye doctor’s, trying to put these things in by myself, it was no easy feat. After about the third or fourth try, I started cracking jokes in an attempt to speed up the process. It didn’t help the contacts get in any faster, but the chick helping me seemed to find it amusing.
Me: They should just invent a machine to put contacts in for you.
Her: I feel like that would be more painful. You ALMOST had it this  time around.
Me: It couldn’t be more painful than you watching this.
Her: You’ve got a point.
Me: This just isn’t going to happen. My eyes won’t open any wider.
Her: Sure they will, just pull on your eyelid.
Me: No, seriously. They’re Asian eyes.
Her: …I know I shouldn’t laugh at that.
In the end, yes, the contacts went in.
Two hours after I managed to put the contacts in:
Poof: It’s going to get hard to get used to you without glasses.
Me: If I’m getting used to putting them in, you have to get used to seeing me with them in. This is so traumatizing though. I might write a blog about it.
Poof: Will you call it contact high?
Me: YOU SO CLEVER.
*I hope that boy marries Taylor Swift so she quits writing bad break up songs. This song came on Sirius four times while I wrote this post.
**I played soccer with contacts in. It’s official. I’m still not much good.