The Agony of Contact Lenses

After my divorce, I was relaxing in my apartment, reading GQ magazine and feeling ugly. There are beautiful people in the world, I realized, but I am not one of them.

What's wrong with my body? I took off my shirt and stared in the mirror. Thick, horrible tufts of hair covered my torso. Very unsightly. I decided to shave them all off. I cut myself, so what? I achieved the sleek look.

next I stared at my face. Look at those wimpy eyebrows!  I wanted a Mediterranean look, so I got out the back shoe polish. Dark, smoldering. I was feeling very suave by now, but when I put my coke-bottle glasses back on, the effect was totally ruined!  My glasses are nerdy, I realized. That's when I remembered my x-wife. She used to love me, but then, she got contact lenses, and left me behind.

I decided to do the same thing. I went to an optometrist, named Retina Damage. She told me to sit in a chair. She examined my eyes, she tested my vision. Then she went into her laboratory and prepared my new lenses, with a sneer. She returned and shoved them deep into my face. Ouch!  I screamed. Beauty is so painful!

Blinded with tears, I wrote out a check for a vast amount and I staggered into the sunlight, weighed down with dozens of chemical. I saw everything in triplicate all the way home. 

When I got home, my eyes were screaming with agony. That's when I remembered, it's time to take them out, only an hour today. I began mutilatingmy eyes, trying to pop them ut, but it just wouldn't work.

Next I tried washing them out - first with a turkey baster. That didn't work. Next I held my face under the sink. No good. I ran to the shower and tried spraying them out. Failed again. Blurry with desperation, I groped to the closet and got out the vacuum cleaner. I sucked out one lens, I slurped out the other one. Then I fainted with exhaustion.

he next morning I woke up and I realized, uh oh, it's time to put them back in. I opened up the vacuum cleaner and I found them gleaming like pearls in the dust. I washed them, of course, and carefully I approached my eye. But my eyelid snapped shut every time! Next I tried taping my eyes open, but now, survival instincts me me move the lens to my nose. Finally after hours of horrible fear, I succeeded. 

I stumbled around the kitchen, washing the dishes, taking out the trash. Hideous pus formed in the corners of my eye. Finally, after an hour, I popped them into the sink. I stared i the mirror. My eyes were marbles floating in pools of blood. 

I'm not saying this happens to everyone, but contact lenses were not my friend. One morning I saw blood dripping onto the sports page. Sure enough, a lens had slipped to the corner of my eye and severed a deep artery. Enraged, I yanked them out and skewered them on my fork. Then I ran amok into the bathroom, slicing and choosing up all the jars of horrible chemicals. I flushed them all down the toilet. 

And the, I returned to my coke-bottle glasses I opened up their legs and slid them onto my face. I love you coke-bottle glasses, I said. I love you, and that's forever.