by Gabe Branhymn

Created on: September 09, 2009

I found them in the men's room. They were sitting on the counter near the hand soap. I need glasses to read but I seldom wear them otherwise. I was alone and felt compelled to try them on. A perfect fit. It was like a warm handshake from a long lost friend. The nose piece sat just right. The weight was minimal, yet heavy enough to prove solid construction with quality materials. The ear pieces rested so gently I had to check to make sure they were there. These glasses were crafted to fit my face with one small exception; I couldn't see more than three feet ahead of me.

Lack of vision seemed a minor detail when compared with the level of elegance and sophistication the frames added to my face. I've always had plain features; forgettable in every way. But these glasses... I stood there, oddly close to the mirror, inspecting my face from every angle. I might be a CEO in these glasses. I might be a media mogul or a news anchor. I could interview the Pope in these glasses and I felt certain he would commend me on my fine choice of frames.

I recalled the torment of wearing glasses as a child. My right eye developed much slower than my left. Children are such cruel creatures. Physical anomalies and imperfections are the shortest path to ridicule. "Four-eyes", "coke-bottles", "goggles"; I heard them all. I found that if I laughed louder than my antagonists, thus trading dignity for peace, they would eventually lose interest. I never gave glasses a chance. They were for dorks and I didn't want to be a dork.

Now, all these years later, the man staring back from the mirror is no dork. He looks more like a proud captain of industry contemplating his next business venture. I took the glasses off to examine the frames just as a coworker walked in. "Oh" he said, "You found them." He held his hand out to receive the glasses. I stared at his face. He was not worthy; his head was far too short and wide. The eyes were too far apart and his eyebrows had long since united above his large nose. I looked at the glasses one last time and handed them to the ogre before me. The man cleaned the lenses with his un-tucked shirt tail and put them on. "Thanks." he said as he walked out of the bathroom.

I turned back to the sink, my head down in despair. He didn't deserve those glasses. I washed my hands for a second time and ran my damp hand over my face and eyes, which were still slightly out of focus. I looked up to see the lined, forgettable face I've grown so tired of. I exited the restroom thinking I would grow a mustache or maybe a beard.

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