A pair of glasses put me into a funk.

A pair of glasses put me into a funk.

Okay, maybe they aren’t the only culprit (my last offspring is newly away at university, and the house is suddenly so very quiet) but the glasses are maybe one sting too many right now.
Why is getting a pair of reading glasses so associated with aging for me?
It is a visible (haha, sorry) reminder of physical change – that I need “assistance” to do something that once required no second thought. The problem began with the comparison to the past, and also interpreting the difference as a loss.

I succumbed to getting the glasses not because of any trouble reading, but because I couldn’t see well enough to take out a blackberry thorn sliver deep in my fingertip. Picture the contortions necessary to manipulate a magnifying glass and tweezers to perform the operation one-handed!
On second thought – don’t, it’s embarrassing.

But it was the final straw. The nurse in me needs to be able to do these things even though I am no longer a practicing #RN and my family are all quite capable of removing their own slivers and probably even mine, if they were here to do so.
Practicality outstripped vanity. Poked holes in denial.

So now I’m trying to graciously accept the assistance with a thankful heart. They are just glasses, after all.
Meanwhile, I acknowledge this as a change but NOT as evidence of failure and decline! Nope, the middle-aged badass rebel in me will now look for evidence to the contrary. Anyone want to go on an awe-inspiring backcountry adventure? I’m feeling ready for anything now that my ability to deal with slivers has been restored!

Funny how such little things can tip the balance.

Hopefully, I can remember where I put the darn things… 😉