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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Some Things Are Universal” Down in the Dirt v208 (6/23)  Order the paperback book: 
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Reflections on a Distorted Life
William Ogden Haynes
I started wearing glasses at age fifteen and hated them because the
prescription was strong and the lenses very thick. It was a teenager’s
nightmare. So, I kept the glasses in my pocket, narcissistically thinking
that I looked much better without them. How could you desecrate such
a young, handsome face with black, horn-rimmed spectacles? I could
strain to see imperfect versions of most things, only wearing glasses to
read in the privacy of my room. And God forbid, if a girl ever saw me
wearing glasses! In college, I didn’t wear them much at all, especially
in the winter. If I wore glasses outside in cold weather, they steamed up
as soon as I went into a warm building making me look like a serial killer.
But in my mid-20s, I got my first pair of soft contact lenses. With the
contact lenses, I could see alright in the early part of the day, but by late
afternoon, it was like looking through Saran Wrap. My eyes became
irritated and dry as the day wore on. For the next 30 years, I switched
between contact lenses, glasses and straining to see without either. At
age 60, I hated the contacts, and could no longer strain hard enough to
see without glasses. So, I resigned myself to wearing glasses full-time,
convincing myself that they made me look professorial. Finally, at age
76, I developed cataracts. After two surgeries to implant lenses inside each
eye, I’m left with 20/20 vision. For the first time, I can see clearly at far,
near and midrange, and have no need for reading glasses. So here I am,
an old man with perfect vision who needs no glasses. The irony is that
I’m no longer young and handsome and I don’t care if I wear glasses or
not. But I can’t help but feel that most all the things I’ve seen for the last
60 years have been distorted in one way or another, either by not wearing
glasses or using dried-up contact lenses. It makes me feel as if I have
wasted most of my visual life. Perhaps, I’ve learned my lesson about
vanity. If I’m lucky, I might have about a decade of perfect vision to
look forward to before I die. Thankfully, at least I can look back on my
life, and appreciate that I have clearly heard all the sounds of this world
from birds chirping to the roar of a passing train. But if my auditory
system starts to go, I’m still vain enough to never, ever buy a hearing aid.
