A few days ago, I went to my doctor because I've had a red spot on my eye for a couple of weeks that I thought was due to allergies.
My doctor took one look at my eye and asked, "Do you wear sunglasses?"
"No--never. I hate carrying them around, how they slide down a sweaty nose, how I always seem to lose them..."
But before I could make my case against the ordinarily unchallenged protective eye gear, she cut me short and said, "Well you need to start. That red spot is due to sun damage."
Unfortunately, the damage doesn't usually go away, but fortunately, it's only cosmetic (I'll just look like I have a perpetual case of dry eye I guess.) If I had known wearing sunglasses could prevent my eye from looking like the "before shot" of the beachball in the Ben Stein Murine Clear Eyes commercials, I would've worn two, maybe three pairs at a time.
So my first day out wearing sunglasses did not go as smoothly as hoped. During my lunch break yesterday, I went in and out of a lot of stores, and by the time I got to the CVS, my last stop, I was so agitated at having to keep taking off and putting on my glasses, that I decided to just leave the damn things on while I browsed through the store.
When I got back to the office, I rummaged through my bag, and noticed I had unintentionally bought a $17 tube of foot fungus cream. In a rush, I ran back out of the office, yelling to my boss and a random visitor that I had to go back to the store to return a box of Lamisil. Mr. Magoo had nothing on me.
When I got home that night, I still had my glasses on when I walked into my condo. My roommate took one look at me and started laughing. Apparently, the Rayban sunglasses I had bought in the mid-nineties no longer cut it in the cutting-edge, high fashion city in which I live. (Yes, the same city in which "Yankees Suck" t-shirts are the fastest-selling clothing item.)
When my roommate was able to collect herself, she informed me that, "Mickey Mouse called. He wants his sunglasses back."
So my mission today is to find a pair of glasses that less resemble ones that a loveable, but fictional cartoon mouse might be styling. This time I think I'll keep my sunglasses off, lest I end up leaving the store with a pair of Groucho Marx glasses and a tube of hemroid cream. At least I'll be well protected.