Weirdgirl has a list going on: Things They Don't Tell You in Lamaze. I have one more to add to the list: failed eyesight. It started with pregnancy and has gotten significantly worse. And now I am practically blind.
Me: "Husband! Right there! It's Ali G in the House: The Holiday Special!"
Husband : (backtracking channels) "Um. You mean Mohammed Ali: A Retrospective?"
Me: "Oh. Really? It looks like..."
Me: "Wow! Close Football game! 14 to 16... Very close."
Husband: "Actually, its 6 to 34."
Me: "Really? (squinting) It looks like..."
(blowing up MS draft to 24pt so I can read it without eyes watering)
Husband: "I can read what you are writing from across the room. Are you ok?"
Me: "Just making things easier, my friend."
Me: "I just accidentally plucked my entire right eyebrow right off my face."
Husband: "I think you need to go in for an eye exam."
So last week I made an appointment with the local Optometrist and walked my ass over, Archer in tow. We sat down together in the eye-exam-chair-from-hell and got my eyes examined. The optometrist ripped me a prescription for a pair of glasses and Archer and I picked out a pair of dork-chic Prada frames to complete my new set of eyes.
I cannot complain. I have always secretly wanted to wear glasses. I think they are damn sexy on men and gals alike and now I can join the bookish/silverlake hipster/intellectual elite. Another interesting thing about getting glasses is that my IQ has risen at least 17 points.
The moral here is that I guess some post-pardum changes aren't so bad. To hell with 20/20 vision, anyway. Soooooo overrated.I embrace my dork-chic and am now off to complete my new look with a couple pairs of Varvatos shoelaceless Chuck Tailors and some intense three hour line-waiting with Archer in front of the Troubadour.