To See Or Not To See

……..that is the question.
Just recently I’ve been noticing a change in the world, a shimmering fuzziness engulfing the solid mass, a gentle haze over the universe. “What is this” I ask myself. “Am I finally in tune with the cosmic energies? Am I one with the Earth? Am I seeing the splendid aura of all living things?”
I go with it. I assume a life of on-off nicotine, chocolate and crisp addiction has led me to a state of Karmic enlightenment. I look upon my fellow man as they hectically rush around in their haze free reality, with no idea of the inner peace I feel as I finish my packet of Ready Salted.
“The haze is good” I tell myself. “The haze knows all”.
It’s not until the haze started to impinge on my general day to day enjoyment of reading, drawing, recognising people and not walking into things that I wondered if, in fact, it really was my ally.
And so it came about that I reluctantly took myself to the opticians. I arrived at a gallery of lense frames and optically challenged pouting models, coaxing me into a submissive acceptance of my upcoming geekdom and checked myself in at the counter, adorned with a large variety of cases, chains and saline fluids. A very nice gentleman met me for my appointment and led me into a reassuringly private room where he proceeded to look into my eyes using a large array of shiny contraptions. When he had finished he leant back on his chair, satisfied, and announced “You’re astigmatic”. This, apparently, means that instead of my eyeballs being round they are a bit squished (or possibly something slightly more scientific) and I need glasses. All in all I feel I dealt with this news rather calmly, especially as the optician then strapped and tightened a heavy collection of lenses within a most ridiculous adjustable frame to my face and went onto suggest that I take a stroll around the shop in them. I looked absolutely mortified. Surely he could not mean that I make a total spectacle of myself in public. But he did and so I sheepishly ventured out into the waiting room.
“Well” queried the optician. I was about to shrug my shoulders when it occurred to me that I could see every single pore on his face, the weave in his trousers and my own shocking reflection two metres behind him.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
There was nothing left for me to do but choose my frames, wait for my glasses and anticipate my entry into nerdsville. As there was no getting away from it I decided to jump right in and wear my glasses straight away. However, from the moment I set foot onto the street I was suddenly aware of the hundreds of eyes staring at me. It was official. I was no longer part of the elite, I was a dweeb, a weed, a boff. I hurried home, determined to stick with my specs, but all the time looking over my shoulder half expecting to see the local trainspotters behind me waving their initiation banners.
Finally I got home and presented myself to my partner. He stared at me for a long while and eventually said, “They really suit you. You look really nice”
Oh Hurray, oh joy, oh rapture. I look really nice! Maybe I’m not a geek after all. Maybe I’m the hot librarian or the sexy school m’am. A chic geek. Ecstatic, I turned to whip off my anorak, tripped over shoe laces, knocked my storm trooper figurine off its shelf and landed next to my pile of sci-fi mags.
Sigh.
Oh well. I hear geeks are in fashion.