Four Eyes

Donna often catches me leaning back from whatever I'm reading, like I'm climbing out a window. I admit that I've begun to focus in a fashion more akin to a microscope than a person. The page is raised and lowered until the blur is lifted.
It's not that I'm afraid I'm getting old. Even the most casual observer can see that the war on grey is not going well for me. Still, unlike a few people around me, I have not turned to dye. I have a few friends who sport the occasional unnatural purple haze to their hair as the dye slowly starts to relax. No, I have fought hard against getting glasses, because I just don't trust any 'doctor' that sells you the cure. I lump bone crackers in with mechanics, in that you don't ever know if they did anything and that you always seem to be coming back. But Optometrists, they sell you the glasses right there, so I doubt they are going to say, 'You don't need glasses."
So, while that may be true, I have to admit that the fact I need glasses was becoming painfully obvious. I knew I couldn't read the newspaper as easily as I once could, what I was worried about was driving. I thought I could see fine, but maybe a professional opinion was in order. Maybe I've been getting by on blind luck.
Turns out I'm just far sighted so I only need glasses to read. So four eyes it is. Donna likes them. And me, I think I look even smarter.