The wonky eye

April 3, 2008 · Filed under Uncategorized

So a couple of weeks ago, I go to the eye doctor to pick up my new glasses.  I do this every year because my prescription changes so much.  Good for getting to pick out cute frames all the time, but bad because I’m about “2 clicks of power” away from a handicap sticker.

However, this time I got told my right eye got slightly better.  I was like, holy heck … vegetables actually work!  It truly was a miracle because not once since 1983 have I been told my vision improved.  I was thinking Jesus had his hand in my business that day.

Until … (dun dun dunnnnnnnn)

I was sitting in the office chair waiting for my new glasses, getting all excited because in my world, glasses are like cute shoes.  Which probably makes me even more nerdy than normal.

But I digress.

A slight adjustment on the eye piece, a little tightening of the screws, then voila!  A perfect fit.  Except not.  The assistant girl was looking at me odd, takes the glasses off and goes fiddles with them in the back.  We do this routine about 3 times trying to get them to fit on my face without them cocking off the the left.  (Which isn’t nearly as dirty as it sounds.)

But then the unthinkable happens.  I hear this:

“You knowwwww (slight pause, finger on cheek in thinking pose, eyes squinty as if makes thoughts more accurate) … your right eye sits higher in your head than the left one.”

And I sit there.  In dumbfounded silence.  My right eye sits higher in my head than the left one.  Oh my ever loving Jesus.  Where for art thou?

I have never noticed this.  But for the past two weeks, I’ve spent a great amount of time staring at myself in a mirror, and consulting with just about everyone I know.  Of course, asking them the question about my eye is the equivalent of asking does my butt look big in this dress:  who knows if I’m getting the right answer?

But I can see it.  Ever so slightly.  At first glance, or even without being tipped off ahead of time, you can’t tell there is anything amiss.  Apparently you need the highly trained eye of the insane (i.e., assistant girl from hell) to be able to point these things out.  And now, because of my obsessive compulsive disorder, I’ve got a new hobby.  It’s called “wonky-eye watching” and I do it A LOT.

And the glasses are still crooked, not an optical illusion as suggested before.  Which leads me to believe I have wonky ears as well.  Fantastic.

Maybe that handicap sticker isn’t such a bad thing after all.  Better parking spots must surely balance out my ill proportioned face, no?  And less walking always makes me feel better.  Kind of like how mashed potatoes can take my tears away.  Seriously.  It is like magic.

So now I sit at work with my crazy eyes and disheveled eyeglasses.  And I’m about one bad hair day from disgruntled office worker.  Simply put:  I’m a circus sideshow.

Gah!  Now I need latte.  Have a wonderful day, and stop staring at my picture for signs of the wonky eye.  Cuz ya’ll know you just did that.

Poo.