Making Contact

A few weeks back, I made the decision that I would purchase contacts. Considering it's ME, I'd rather be in a coma than touching my eye. I am Cherrie and I have eyeball issues. Back in school if you wanted me to vomit on queue, just flip your eyelid up or touch your eyeball. My husband often touches his eyeball just to laugh when I turn and run for the bathroom. He's somehow taught the kids this macabre mastery and when I fuss at them they pull down their bottom eyelid and make a motion as if they were in the process of touching their eyeball.

Eyeball issues. I've traced this back to First Grade and a goober named Richard Lee. Apparently he liked me and this is how he wanted to impress me. I'm with you, I didn't get it either. I regurgitated on the spot. He equated that with supreme love and repeated this ritual as often as he could until the teacher thought I had a chronic ulcer or an eating disorder.

So anyway, I decided on a whim while having my eyes checked that I wanted to " toy with the idea" of getting contacts. The PA seized on this minor sentence and said "I'll be right back". Before I could explain to her that I was joking or at best my medications incapacitated my brain function, she was back in with the doctor checking my eyes. He said "Contacts would look great on you", the PA chimed in "And we have all sorts of colors and you can really have fun with these". Silly girl. Tricks are for kids.

An appointment was made for my contact fitting while I was still mulling over the idea of what just happened. I'll tell you what happened. I was bamboozeled, hoodwinked, led astray!... And then the reality really hit me like Plymouth Rock. I was going to get contacts. Sure, why not? I'm 47 years old and I have issues with touching my eyeballs to the point where I can't watch horror movies where eyeballs are involved, but yeah, I'm going to face my fear and I will wear contacts.

Find out what happens next at: http://cherriewebb.com/webb/archives/2257