I am not myself lately. At least, not when I see myself in a mirror.
Such a thing does happen on occasion. We have two or three mirrors in the house. None are large or well lit. Some times of day it doesn’t seem worth looking into them. Most often, I wait till I go to town, when I can’t help but take a good, long look (see Finding Myself at the Library).
Two things have happened lately to change my appearance: I’m growing hair, and wearing corrective lenses.
A crappy photo taken on the computer, but it may be appropriate at the moment. I only look as good as I feel! (Photo: Mark A. Zeiger.)
The hair returns after more than two years of shaving because I’m growing it all out for the play I’m directing, The Lion in Winter. By opening night, the Friday after Thanksgiving, I should have a somewhat full head of shortly cropped hair, and a medieval-style bushy beard.
I’ve worn corrective lenses most of my life. In 2005, just before moving to the homestead, I got lasik surgery. That kept me lens-free until September, when age caught up with me.
I tried to renew my driver’s license ahead of my birthday so I could get a photo with my regular grooming before cultivating my Lion look. I quickly discovered that, true to my growing suspicion, my eye sight had deteriorated.
I failed to realize that lasik corrected my eyes as they were 14 years ago (see Celebrating Sight: A Personal Anniversary). It can’t maintain my sight beyond that. True, I still see much better than I used to, but I need help.
I went to Juneau, had my eyes checked, and soon had a new pair of glasses, and, luckily, a pair of contact lenses.
The big problem with the new glasses comes from the progressive lenses. I have “built-in” readers in the lenses, which requires me to look directly out of the center of the lenses to see at any distance, then look through the bottoms of the lenses to read close up.
This plays holy hell with my sight! Anything outside where I’m looking at the moment blurs out—I have no useful peripheral vision. This would be hard enough in normal American life. On the homestead, in the forest, and on the beach, it’s practically impossible. Hiking the trail, I seem to wade waist deep through clear water, with the ground magnified beneath me. I stumble less as I grow used to this, but it still seems likely I’ll twist an ankle, or even break a bone. When I drive, I have to look directly at the speedometer and other gauges, I can’t just glance down quickly while watching the road. They make simple, everyday tasks like lighting the gas stove difficult.
The contacts, set on my eyeballs, move with them. Anywhere I glance, I see well. I don’t fog up when I step into a warm cabin, or any of the myriad small annoyances of wearing spectacles. Needless to say, I wear the contacts as often as possible.
That, at least, makes my strange new appearance slightly less strange. I’ll begin to feel like myself after the play closes. It’s a drag to return to correct lenses, but I’ll live.
Who is that person in the mirror? I do find myself asking that question at times. 🙂 As a fellow progressive lens wearer, it took me some time to get used to them. I can’t tell you how many times I “overstepped” something because I was looking down into of straight ahead!
You are growing what my husband refers to as his winter disguise.:)
I wish I could see your play, I watched the movie recently and forgot how much I loved it. Best of luck with it!
I love that face with or without glasses and beard! Kind of like the fuzz on top too. 🙂
the golden years are not always so golden – will turn 76 in dec – dark hair turned white long ago – the VA keeps seeein g though blury in the right eye – left still good – went last week for a com plete heart evaluation – came out of that with a good pronosis – no gaurantee that i will remember who you are down the road – dreams is what keep you going – in the process of designing and building a boat – started out wikth your basic Trilo but have added some of my own twist to it – manual sidewheeler for propulsion – no one around here thinks in those terms including the wife so you have to keep your ideas somewhat to yourself – the main thing is bthe dream – did a canoe trip on the mississippi last year – might have to take her down to the gulf – anyway it keeps you thinking – now doing a play that sounds neat – the bard of the north – good luck
Angela, that overstepping thing is scary, isn’t it? it’s particularly hard with all the tree roots and rocks on the trail.
I like the term “winter disguise.” That’s pretty much what I’m doing. I’m now at the “my face is covered with scratchy wool” faze. Hating it a little. How I suffer for my art!
The ’68 O’Toole/Hepburn movie inspired me to do this here. But, I think most of my cast beats even that one! Since it’s live and local, I guess I can come back here and say it was, and few will ever know . . . .
Michelle, your lobbying for me to return to hair and beard is subtle, but I’m not fooled! Love you!
Linn, if you’re 76, then I’m inspired. Deterioration is inevitable, but you don’t seem to be giving into it, and I don’t either!