there's an abject horror to trying on eyewear in public. if you're stricken with uncharacteristic joie de vivre at the sidewalk stand, you might pick up a pair of insta-bait sunnies; hearts, flames, or god forbid the quintessential symbol of cool-- ray bans (just like goddamn tom cruise wore in risky business). you sheepishly look up at the mirror only do realize you are not a baddie and scramble to hide them before anyone can see you recognize your own limitations during dress up.
today i went to the family eye doctor with my mom, which has potent regression abilities. my insurance covers a new frame every year so there's immense weight to this decision. i remember being in 8th grade begging for the tyler oakley horn rims. *shiver*
the woman helping us is an estranged friend of my mom's, meaning it stays in the office. they run around amassing a pile of options for me like i'm a little boy prince. after a period of squinting and head-cocking at a square frame "not working for my round face and making my eyes look weird" its clear the attendant would like to wrap it up and settle on any old pair, but my mom has already planted her roots until i find the perfect look despite the line beginning to form.
demonstrating expert resistance training, this disregard for social graces in service of a personal win is truly invigorating. *click* she loudly takes an unflattering photo of me on her phone so i can see what it looks like "in real life".
fuck it, let me see that pair with the tortoiseshell arms!!! thanks for looking out!!
