Spot the Difference

The most horrifying scene I've ever seen in a film is that bit in 'A Clockwork Orange' where they keep Alex's eyes open with hooks. It literally, Anika, makes me squirm. There's something sacred in that protective reflex of the eye, the ability to snap shut in the face of danger.

Odd then that I should volunteer for contact lenses. A hardened glasses wearer, the epiphany came about six months ago when an eyelash wandered right into the middle of eye. It wouldn't blink out. It wouldn't wash out. The scratching was driving me to desperation. And then I made the discovery - I could touch my eye. I reached in and lifted it out. I was dumbstruck. Perhaps I needn't wear glasses after all.

So I'm trying them out - although, even after only two days, I think it might be safe to say I will never wear my glasses full-time again. It still takes me 25 minutes to put them in, usually after accidentally blinking one of them across the room for Ziggy to chase after. They're feisty little things.

It's a truly amazing experience. I'm sorry, but if you don't wear glasses around all the time, you don't understand. It's so liberating. I have peripheral vision again. I can see by myself.

But it's not all kicks. Looking at my reflection was actually a bit scary. I didn't recognise myself in the mirror. I realised that it's been a very long time since I've been able to see myself full length and in focus. I meet myself in the bathroom mirror sans lens, of course, but that's always been close up and probably still a bit blurry. I don't know who this girl is. I don't know if I like her. I didn't know I was hiding behind my glasses, using them as an excuse for something - thought I'm not quite sure what. I won't be able to do that anymore. I caught my mother looking at me sideways. "I'm just getting used to how you look," she said. Hopefully this part of things is only temporary.
Surely I'll get to know myself again.