Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Boys Don't Make Passes . . .

Every night for the past three weeks I have been crippled with a headached when I get home. Correction, every night after work for three weeks I have been crippled with a headache. Or a horrifying brain tumor that is crushing my skull but chooses only to do so on Monday thru Thursday nights.

My lovely husband suggested that I go to the eye doctor since I have been squinting while using my computer and reading reports at work.

Its a nice suggestion. But I really really don't want glasses.

I know that it is inevitable, since I am literally the last person in my entire family without them. My mother can't really even get up to pee at night without hers. If my father leaves his somewhere you have to read him the menu (which actually is really fun, sometimes I just tell him the low-fat, non-tasty options until he threatens to make me pay for my own). Even my sister needs them sometime. And God knows every cousin, aunt, uncle and grandparent in the lot has a pair perched on their nose.

So I knew I would need them eventually. But I just want to put that off until I don't care if I am pretty anymore. Like when I am ninety-seven.

I should be over vanity by then.

Its not that I don't think glasses can look nice. My husband looks more handsome with them on than without.

But I can't even find a pair of sunglasses that don't make me look deranged so I prefer not to look that way every day of my life. Or even just Monday thru Thursday.

Start throwing tomatoes at me now ok? I know it is so very very stupid.

But I went to the eye doctor today. He said I need glasses.

Lets see how long I can put it off.

2:09 p.m. :: comment ::
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