"Well... Your diopter has increased." I glared at the ophthalmologist, the soulless person who nonchalantly tells me such terrible news. "Wha… how come?" "How can that be?", I choked out. "Im, child, it grows even at my age, which it wouldn't at yours." But, if you want, we can fix it with a laser, you're a good candidate." He hands me the paper with the judgment written on it and sends me to the next room to get new lenses. Minus six and a half, in both eyes. Ten minutes later, I've already put on new lenses, I'm walking around New Belgrade and I'm admiring the clarity and vividness of the image: oh, look how blue the sky is, what a wonderful cloud, my mother, but the trees have turned green, surely from all that rain... Here's a bus , let him come over to see if it's mine... Oh, no, I can see even from here that it's not, he doesn't have to come any closer.
I have always been, with forgiveness, lazy. The first grade teacher broke in, when I started to get up from the desk and approach the blackboard to see what was written. Then my aunt took me to her friend, an eye doctor. He was lovely, attentive and kind, crouched down so we could look into each other's eyes, and all in all it was a fun experience for a seven-year-old: you go to the doctor, he doesn't poke you, he doesn't touch you with unnaturally cold objects, and nothing hurts . Many years later, I will realize that the doctor was, in fact, secretly in love with the aunt and that's why he was especially careful, and that most of the children still scream and run away when they are taken to the eye doctor for the first time. Basically, I got red glasses and a red shoelace so I wouldn't lose them. The doctor warned me that I might get a headache until I got used to it, but that didn't happen. He also told me that I was pretty with glasses (on my aunt!) and that I shouldn't pay attention if the other kids teased me, but that didn't happen either. Also, he drew my attention to be careful when playing, not to break them. I've been wearing glasses for a quarter of a century, but I haven't broken them yet.
All in all, glasses and myopia from the start was a nice experience. I was a nerdy old girl even before them, so they just completed my image and we had a great time, until puberty. At that time, my dioptre had already reached minus three, but that didn't stop me from wearing glasses only at school during classes. If someone asked me now how I crossed the street, met people, went to the cinema - I wouldn't know how to explain it to him. How did I fall in love with that metal guy from eighth grade in the sixth grade, when I never saw him clearly? I happened to see him on Facebook the other day, and now he's a good dude, even when I put on my glasses. I was held by stubbornness (not to say complex) until high school, and then I didn't care, although, in the pictures in the school yearbook, I don't have glasses, from which we can conclude that I didn't really care.
In the index, the subscription book and the first press card "Vremena" I am proudly chatting with all the tweeters, so we will assume that by then I had already completely relaxed in all my stupidity. Don't lie down, at that time my dioptre literally starts going wild. A smart lady ophthalmologist suggests lenses, in order to stop the growth of diopters: can I do soft - yes, it will be great for you, and when you turn 26, we will see if you are a candidate for surgery.
These days I celebrate 25 years of my blindness and ten years of wearing lenses. I have to admit, I'm not one of those conscientious lens wearers who take them off every night. On the contrary, I am completely irresponsible, I sleep with them in my eyes, I abuse them with make-up, cosmetics, tobacco smoke and crying. Since I haven't had any eye infections or mechanical damage yet, I'm still chasing that image of a sullen rebel living on the edge. Well, this year I reached minus six and a half and everyone is suggesting me the famous laser surgery to reduce the dioptre. And I won't.
I won't, because it's not fair to that seven-year-old girl who burned herself on the red frame with the red shoelace. It's not even fair to that confused teenage girl who quickly took off her glasses and hid them behind her back when the guy from eighth grade came by. It's not fair to the fact that I made him rummage around the floor looking for the lens that I dropped, and then we realized that we fell in love right then and there, even though the lens was in my eye the whole time, it just got a little smudged, so I the eye went blind. Nor to the other one, who came to the first meeting with a fever, so I put on glasses, so that, like, I too would be uncomfortable for something. It's not fair to my first ophthalmologist, who is still in love with my aunt, as everyone can see, except for her, who is still in love with her. For the sake of all of them and for the sake of my former self, it is not right for me to see suddenly now, as if nothing had happened.
After all, I'm not going for stupid laser surgery, because what's wrong with imperfections? Blindness can still be fixed, but I wouldn't just accept it like the other, irreparable ones. Or the other way around, why shouldn't I love that incorrigible like I love her.
