Just call me Two Eyes

It’s weird. After 40 years of being a-guy-who-wears-glasses. I’m suddenly a-guy-who-doesn’t-wear-glasses.

And now, as I’m walking around, I’m constantly getting that feeling like I’ve lost something, like something’s missing. That feeling like, “Hey, where’s my wallet??” or “Where’s my keys??” That feeling where you suddenly realize you’re walking around with your fly open. I’ll suddenly fly into a panic. “Hey, where did my glasses go?? They’re not on my face anymore!!” Then I remember. “Oh yeah. I don’t wear glasses any more.”

And I think it also changes how people perceive you. Not exactly the Clark Kent to Superman transition. Or the wallflower in the movies who takes off her glasses and the leading man suddenly realizes she’s been a beauty all along. But, as a street person, I inevitably have a lot of interactions with the cops. And I’ve always had a theory that wearing glasses saved me a lot of hassles from the cops. You look more safe, more innocuous, wearing glasses. Less suspicious, more blandly normal. The cops look at you and think, “He’s wearing glasses, he’s probably an intelligent fellow, reads a lot of books, leads a quiet life, etc.” I’ve probably gotten half as many tickets as I would have gotten over the years, simply because I wear glasses.

Glasses also hide your eyes. Especially if you wore bifocals like me, with distorted lens. They say that “the eyes are the window to the soul.” And, wearing glasses, people were less able to see how crazed my particular soul is. They often give you kind of a poker face (they also cover up your eyebrows). It’s harder to read a person’s facial expression when they’re wearing glasses. So now I feel a bit more naked and exposed.

Oh well. If it gets to be a problem I guess I could just go back to wearing fake glasses with no prescription in the lens. . .

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