I first got glasses when I was about 12. The world ended. Literally. Only nerds wore glasses, and damn it I would rather walk into walls and miss out on the lunchtime perv than wear those things.

Seems I’d been blind as a bat for sometime, and I just assumed everyone else was too. I copied from the student next to me rather than the blackboard, and dodgeball was a horror best avoided. Imagine not being able to see the balls until a microsecond before they hit – extreme stress. I even played netball, but because I couldn’t catch nobody threw the ball to me, and that was appreciated. My mother only picked up on it when she asked me the time one day and I got up, walked to the clock and put my face 30cm away from it. What, you mean other people can see from all the way across the room? No way!

Off to the optometrist we went. Well, you’re pov so you may choose one of these 3 frames. Ugly, man-ugly, and Fugly. Woo! Obviously my entrance into the world of sight wasn’t the favourite part of my formative years. I remember leaving with my new glasses and stopping in my tracks outside.

The trees had leaves.

Who knew?

Old frames are great dress ups!

I accidentally lost those horrible glasses within a month. I didn’t mean to, I just wasn’t accustomed to having to remember things that weren’t attached to me. My parents bought me nicer ones next time, and I learned my lesson. They still think I lost them on purpose though.

Fast forward to age 33 and I get a new pair of specs each year. Private health insurance pays a bit, I pay a lot extra to get thin lenses instead of coke bottles. It is worth it though, after 365 days of staring at these frames, cleaning the lenses, observing scratch after scratch appear, getting bent this way and that – I am so over this face. Time for a new one.

I have tried contact lenses, but they’re not right. Either I get really tall while wearing them, or the floor gets really far away. It’s like being in a high rise building and looking out the window – and then the window disappears. Not safe. I need my window.

What I don’t need on my window is fingerprints. I once saw a woman reach her finger slowly into the inside of her boyfriend’s glasses and scoop off an eyelash. The look on his face as he removed his glasses to clean them was priceless. You wouldn’t reach out and poke someone in the eye and call it helpful, would you?

My kids are still struggling with this lesson. Each morning when they want me to get out of bed, they know the fastest way is to pick up my glasses and give them to me. Or better yet, jump and prance on my bedside table right next to my glasses.

These are my eyes. I need them clean, I need them intact, and I need everyone to keep their grotty mitts off. You can have them when I get new ones.

Do you wear glasses? How old were you when you joined the club?