Officially, a middle-aged man. I know this, because I saw a medical professional today. First visit to this particular type of professional in 18 years. And he dropped the bomb on me. Diagnosed, and prescribed. I then went next door, and made arrangements to have the prescription filled. There is no acceptable treatment for my condition, so here I am to contemplate my fate.
The prescription?
It’s…grim.
Sure you wanna know?
Well, ok. Guess there’s no point in denying it.
Today, I ordered my first pair of bifocals. Y’all get the Hell off my lawn, and turn that damn shakey-booty music down.
Harrumph.
The good news is bifocals are the bomb for keeping the wind out of your eyes in that new red convertible you are getting. Just make sure the toupee is glued on well (I’ll have my guy call your guy).
2 would be fun, and I have a couple of candidates in mine. Unfortunately, their attorney would probably object. However, I did recently force a wife-beater to turn over his brand new F-150 with power everything to his soon to be ex-wife. He’ll be tooling around town in the old and battered Volkswagon, because the wife can’t drive a stick shift. The look on his face as the Judge gave her ruling was absolutely delicious.
3–not so much. Never have been a deer hunter. Got no moral objections, and I like venison, just other things I’d rather do. Also, hunting deer in August is a crime in this state.
4–Coulda been worse. I coulda gone to an M.D., and had to kill him when he suggested a rectal exam. Woulda been inconvenient to miss work long enough to quash the indictment by telling the Judge how I had no choice but to kill him under the circumstances. This particular Judge being of the old school, I’m sure he’d understand.
The part you are not understanding is I am a manly man. I snack on danger and dine on death. I go places to kick ass and chew gum, and I don’t even bring any gum. I’ll fight a buzz saw if it pisses me off.
Needing bifocals is a sign of frailty. It implies that there is something out there with an ass I can’t kick. This is…undignified.
If we lived in a civilized society, my clan would paint our faces for war, and I would lead us in battle one last time. When I fell, the buxom blonde on the winged horse would come to take me home.
Sadly, in these barbaric times, I must somehow cope with no longer being invincible. This is…not pleasing…for one with a warrior’s soul.
Then you must do as my father did, when he found that trifocals and cataracts began interfering with his extreme sports hobbies. Your eyes have betrayed you, and must be taught the error of their ways. Have their lenses pulverized with ultrasound and sucked out with a machine, then replaced with artificial lenses.
(Or you could just deal with it for a while, and get a lens replacement if and when things get much worse.)
If the eye doc prescribed Viagra, I’d probably want to see somebody else. If a regular doc prescribed Viagra, I might have started a thread looking for lady doper volunteers to…um…test the dosage.
Yup. The aforementioned presbyopia comes with age, with the lens becoming less flexible. Even people who’ve never worn glasses will probably encounter this. You almost certainly have bifocals for a different eye disorder.
I am not too far away from getting bifocals, I suspect. I nead reading glasses when I have my contacts in, but I don’t when I have my regular glasses on - at least, I don’t yet.
I empathize. I suspect that between coming up on my 42nd birthday and the diabetes, I’ll probably need glasses soon. Particularly if I keep using the Klondike game on my BlackBerry.
Heh. I had bifocals when I was 9. It’s not a terribly cool look for a 3rd grader, let me tell you, but at least I could see.
But last year, my husband finally admitted his vision had changed and went to the eye doc for the first time in his 46 years of life. Wham, trifocals. He was not pleased.
Ahem, I don’t need glasses. And I got my eyes checked and everything last June. Then I turned 40, and within months my arms have become rather short. Can’t read fine print unless I’m in the next room.
“Cheaters”. Not glasses. Certainly not bifocals. I will have a pair around cause um, they are funky. And my arms are too darn short. And fonts are smaller than they used to be. So, uh yeah.
Get off my lawn, pull yer pants up, and turn down that music.