So much for those daily alcohol washes. I guess wine doesn't go to the eyeball, eh?!
HAHAHA! Heh. (I don't really drink. Maybe I should start.)
Right, so it took me about six months to realize that no, people would not be able to tell that my eyeballs were in fact dirty (unless you announce it on the Internet). So I finally went to pick out some new frames when I got my updated prescription. But this was the first time I'd gone by myself for such a monumental purchase. I'd have these badboys for the next five or ten years, likely. Could I trust myself with picking out ones that didn't make me look like Sally Jessie Rafael? (The answer to this, sadly, is "no" because the Asian women behind the counter had to calmly but firmly remove the red plastic frames from my hands before I made the connection.)
So I decided that I would take pictures of perspective frames and post them to Twitter. Surely an audience of relative strangers with a predilection for sarcasm wouldn't steer me wrong.
At the store, I browsed through the rhinestone-studded frames, the rimless (TWSS?) frames, and evidently, the SJR frames. When I finally found a "maybe" pair, I walked up to the mirror and took a picture as some of the other patrons silently mocked. The picture took, but then my phone, um, crashed.
It's the highschool nightmare come to life, people. My face broke my camera. Naturally, I took to Twitter to find solace. Or just publicly announce my humiliation. No one really responds to me on Twitter:
So I was left to reflect upon my hideous features and--more importantly--choose my frames BY MYSELF. I picked out a pair after an hour of indecision and trying to decipher if the nice Asian lady was telling me that she loved them or if they were, um, "rough." (No really. Still not sure.) I get them next week. I'll post a picture then and you can let me know.