“You look like you’re 32…”

This morning I had to get up at 6:00 am because I had an appointment with my eye doctor at 8:00 am.  By now, you must have an idea of how I did look like, but I did my best to look presentable.  Washed and set my hair, jean jacket, etc., everything men and women do to look good (should read:  hanging on to everything in good condition, and being able to hide your liabilities and make the best with the few assets you got).

I must admit, I liked the way I looked.  My ego doesn’t need any assistance ever.  Thank you.  So there I go, it was raining, so it was not a good hair day.  Tornado possibilities around, but I needed to make sure I kept this appointment for the sake of my beautiful eyes.  Without them the lights go out.

After the usual ceremony of going to the doctor takes place (waiting for the almighty doctor to show up)  a nice young man gives me the usual peek-a-boo testings;  reading tiny little letters and me doing all in my power to try to fool him, guessing which letters are what, or if it is a number or a letter.  Much denial.  But in a few seconds, I realized that the only one I was trying to fool was myself.  So I found out that my right eye is the one I have been using the most to see my face when I am putting on makeup, because that was the one with a slight variation of good sight.  The left one is the merciless one.  Don’t use that one when I want to feel good.

Then he put some drops to dilate my pupils, I waited for a few minutes, and then Mr. Doctor decided it was time to show up at the office.

He checked my right eye, and said that everything looked good so he’ll see me in a year.  I said “Aren’t you going to check my left eye, I mean,  drops are in there already.”  He said “sure, we’ll do two for the price of one.”  I burst into laughter that lasted for a few good seconds.  Then I said “you’re funny, I like your sense of humor.”  He didn’t know what to make of my comment.  Probably he thought, this is not a dumb one.

The left eye is fine, thank you.  Somewhere in the conversation between his checking the left eye, I said that I need to make sure both eyes are doing fine, because after all I am 62+ and so are my eyes.  Then he said:

“You look like you are 32…”   Now, there’s a big difference between a compliment and a big ugly lie.  Thirty two?  Please, I have a lot of mirrors in my house and the one in the bathroom has so many lights above it, it feels like at any moment there is a plane that is going to land on my sink.

Thirty two… my aching feet!  Look at the picture above.  That girl doesn’t have any laughter lines, anything hanging down, as gravity is doing its best efforts at 62+.  Please Mr. Doctor, I don’t need compliments of any category, especially when I know a lie from far away.  I know you had your best intention, but I know also that I do have a lot of many happy birthdays, and still I can see even in the dark that 32 is a stage I will not visit again, and in a way, why should I?  What do you think I will return as when I make my next visit to planet whatever it will be.  Will I be a bird, a flower or a teacher.  Always wanted to be a teacher.

Now, that’s more like…52…getting wiser is a lot of fun.  You can say whatever you want  and whenever and you want to.  I think I already posted to that.  Since I left the good intentioned doctor, I am seeing double everything, well kind of, and my vision is perfect (perfectly fuzzy) to see myself in the mirror, even with all those lights.  I look….like 32.  No lines anywhere.  But tomorrow back to reality with the merciless left eye.

So it was March 10, 2100.

Your Happy Contessa

Did you notice something?  Ha ha!