Wednesday, September 26, 2012
by Tom the Hungarian
This happened many years ago - far more than I care to recall or admit to - in the very first year I started my practice. Patients were still far and few. Brenda was nine years old, tall an well developed for her age when she was brought to my office by her mother for an eye examination. She had a dense forest of long, curly black hair, pale skin with very red cheeks, thick red lips and burning, angry black eyes. And it was not just her eyes that were angry!
After introducing herself and her daughter, Mrs.B. announced that she wanted Brenda's vision tested because she thought she needed glasses. Brenda's response was loud and clear:
"There's nothing wrong with my eyes, I don't want them tested and I don't want glasses!"
by Doreen F.Teresa always felt thrilled when she started to work at a new company. She would meet many people and would be shown around. Then her mentor would explain how everything worked and she'd get used to it. Then she'd stay until she found something more appealing. Her first jobs were being a waitress, but she soon got bored of that and only continued doing it as long as she was at college. Teresa often moved to other cities to get a job, she loved moving around and never had too many things to carry around. There was hardly any job which she had done for more than a year and many for a much shorter period of time.
Part 5: Philip's Story
It had been a bad night, and it was a worse morning. Actually, it had been a bad time since my boy friend walked out of my life, six months to the day, which was what made it extra specially hellish. And it wasn’t my fault—I can’t help my bad eyesight.
Part 4: Duncan’s story
by JulesLike all my stories, this is sheer fiction. I was never a Boy Scout, and this is probably evident to any reader who ever was!
Love and kisses, Jules.
One of the most popular Scout songs is The Quartermaster’s Store. Sooner or later it will be sung at any and every Scout gathering, and round this particular camp fire it went on for ages, as we invented more and more verses, often getting personal about one another. After each verse came the refrain:
My eyes are dim, I cannot see,
I have not got my specs with me,
I have no-ot got my-y specs with me.
Part 3: Henry’s Story
It seemed like a good idea at the time—but I should never have married Fran. Actually I should never have married anybody. When I was at university Father Paul, the chaplain, used to say I was “one of nature’s bachelors” which was his kindly way of saying I was as queer as a three-pound note. But when you’re teaching in a Church of England high school, and think people may have noticed you have an eye for the boys—well, you hope a wedding will keep the gossips quiet. Quieter, anyway.
Part 1: Aidan’s story
I try to stay away from those places. It isn’t my scene, not really; I don’t think it’s right. I don’t even like the smell, though it is a kind of turn-on. It’s asking for trouble—especially for somebody who’s training to be a priest.
I always take my spectacles off before I go in, because—well, you never know. My sight isn’t too bad without them, just bad enough to make the people in there look younger and more attractive. And if there was any trouble it might be better not to be able to see too much detail. And then they say nobody makes passes at guys who wear glasses.
The continuation of Darcy’s Dilemma
I work part time in an electronics store. Mostly, I assist customers with questions about games, music devices, videos, and computers. It’s the perfect job for me. I’m saving money to buy a scooter which I think will be really handy especially when I go to college. Fortunately, the business district where the store resides is only a few blocks from my house so it is within walking distance. Occasionally my dad stops in. More often I run into neighbours and friends of the family. Before that day, I would have been concerned about the possibility of someone catching me in glasses, and then discussing that fact with my parents. Not any more. I put them on, locked the front door, and headed down the street. I no longer felt constrained. I was duty-bound to complete the mission.
My first encounter with Parker was unimpressive. It was the second day of the new school year when he walked into the classroom. He seemed no different from any average junior in high school. Sure, I did my usual double-take when I saw that he was wearing glasses. And yes, he was cute enough, but that was the problem. My assumption was that he would not assimilate with the group of friends with which I associated. Over time I would learn that he was shy, self-conscious, and somewhat socially challenged. More importantly, I would find that there was one thing that set him apart from most boys his age. That’s when I would realize that he was everything that I had ever dreamed about having in a boyfriend.
by Specs4everEven after 60 years I could still remember her glasses as if it were yesterday. She was a short, slightly overweight lady with grey hair tied up in a bun on the back of her head, and she smelled like apple pie. From the time I was a baby she changed my diapers, and helped my mother raise me for a number of years. But it was always her glasses that fascinated me. The first pair I remember noticing was a rimless pair, with a silver bridge that was fastened with one screw to each lens. The temples were also fastened with a screw at each side of the lens, and they went back over her ears. When she had them off, and I was a little older I could tell that the earpieces coiled around and fitted snugly behind her ears. Later in life I found out that these were called cable temples. But it was the lenses that intrigued me. They were octagonal shaped, with six of the sides appearing to be equal in length. The center side, at the top and the bottom were longer than the others. In the center of these lenses were circles that were between 25 mm, and 30mm in diameter. Behind these lenses her eyes were minified significantly, and appeared to be shrunken back into her head. But when she took her glasses off, her eyes were very large, and were a milky blue in color.
by Specs4everI don’t know if I was an optically obsessed person before the summer that I was 9 years old and attended a YMCA summer camp for the month of July, or if my obsession started at that camp. I suppose it doesn’t really matter much, since this is sort of “the chicken, or the egg” type of rhetoric. I do know however that by the time I returned home after that summer I was definitely optically obsessed.
At camp the kid who bunked below me, Richard, sometimes wore glasses. He didn’t really seem to need them, because more often than not they sat, arms folded and face up, on the window ledge above his bunk. Rich had the lower bunk, I had the upper bunk, and every morning we had to roll our bedrolls tightly, snap the 2 x 4 holding the outer edge of the bunk in place out of the notch, and roll the canvas covered 2 x 4 up tightly to the wall. Then our pillow and bedroll sat neatly on the rolled canvas, and our cabin was ready for the morning inspection. And, then we would go off for breakfast, with Rich sometimes wearing his glasses, but more often, not wearing them. I was confused. I thought if you needed glasses you had to wear them, so why wasn’t Rich wearing his glasses?
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
by Specs4everWhy, why was I doing this? God I felt so stupid, sitting in the hot seat, dressed in a bland off white shirt, and beige non descript slacks. I was so nervous the sweat was building on my forehead, the heat held in by the hood that partially obscured my hair, and most of my facial features, and the strong glasses I was wearing were trying their best to slide down my nose.
Just then the familiar music started, and as it ended the announcer said. “Welcome to this evenings edition of 40 Minutes Live, with Dee Anne Slayer. Tonight is part six of a ten part series that 40 Minutes is doing on fetishes. The previous editions have covered the shoe fetish, the women’s undergarment fetish, the braces fetish, the breast fetish, and the tattoo and body-piercing fetish. Tonight our episode will cover the fetish that some men and women have towards members of the opposite, and even the same sex, who wear glasses. Please give a big hand of applause to Dee Anne Slayer, and her guest, Specs4ever, noted author of many short stories that can be found on the Internet about people who wear glasses, and people who appear in public wearing strong glasses, but don’t really need them.”
Thursday, September 20, 2012
by an unknown authorThe car pulled into the drive and George yawned and got out. It had been a long week, and he was looking forward to some serious downtime over the weekend, maybe even a spot of hockey. Certainly a night out with his buddies, it had been a while and they'd had to remind him they still existed.
"Hey man," the call had been from Mike "You fallen off the planet? We still meet every saturday night at Bassey's place."
George had tentatively agreed to make the effort, pleading hard work, and yet another 3 weeks had gone by. But THIS weekend he'd promised himself he'd be there.
Opening the door the cat greeted him with demands for food. He threw the mail on the table, threw his coat over a chair and just fell into a chair. The money was great in this job, but there was never any time to spend it. The stressfactor was high, every night it seemed he came home with his head throbbing, and the only cure was sleep. Not that this was difficult to acheive, within half an hour he was out cold on the couch and the next he knew it was saturday morning.
I had always been a tomboy, but then what girl doesn’t say that. We all think we’re a lot tougher than we really are. I’m sure I felt that way because all of the kids my age in my neighborhood were boys, at least for a block or two around my house. I never played with girls on a daily basis. I won’t say that I was a member of the "boy’s club" but for the most part my neighbors treated me like one of the guys and protected me like one of their gang. Since we lived a block from a large city park, activities were endless. There was always something to do. I wasn’t especially great at playing ball and stick sports but I was athletic. I could run, bike, swim, skate, and climb as vigorously as anyone. But at age thirteen when the boys grew taller and got stronger, I developed breasts and hips.
I looked at the glasses I was holding in my hand, and then I looked at the picture I had just scanned into my computer. The glasses were the same, but the face in the picture wearing the glasses, with her eyes minified behind the strong lenses of these glasses no longer resembled the hazel eyed strawberry blonde girl, that I had just left a couple of hours ago. Gone were the strong glasses, replaced by 12 years of contact lens wear. The strawberry blonde hair was now much shorter, and there were no more bangs touching the upper rims of the glasses. She was still about the same general slim build, and the height hadn’t changed, but the smile in the picture was something I hadn’t seen much of for the last few years. How had it happened I wondered? How had we fallen in love, married, had a wonderful daughter and at the same time destroyed all semblances of our former carefree happy selves?
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
I glanced at Darla as we were sitting in the hotel room watching the television. She was really quite pretty, even though the thick biconcave myodiscs that she was wearing became the focal point of her face. I pushed my own identical –23D biconcave myodiscs a little closer to my face in order to see her features a little bit clearer. Darla was maybe an inch taller than my 5’6”, and she was a little bit heavier, probably about 135 lbs. to my 120 lbs. She had a much bigger bust, and her long jet black hair was tied back in a ponytail, whereas my mousy brown hair was cut short in sort of a pageboy style.
by Doreen F."Don’t worry, he’s perfect for you!" that’s what my friend Anja told me before I met my date for the evening. It was a blind date she had arranged. I would go there with her and her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s friend, my date. I did not even know her boyfriend, Alan, that well. I had seen him a couple of times, but we were usually out in a group and I had not had much of a chance to talk to him. But I wanted to have some fun, so I had agreed, when they came up with the idea of hooking me up with Alan’s friend, Leo. Hell, why shouldn’t I get lucky for once when it came to men? I was really picky when it came to boyfriends, but why should I go for less than I felt I deserved?
A blind date it was.
by an unknown authorNathan was just a regular guy who needed a job after college, and being smart enough and fit enough he'd found himself working in security. They trained him, sent him to various jobs, and it was always straightforward enough. He chased a few jerks, threatened one or two, even raised his gun once, but it was just a job, just a slightly more exciting one than most people have. When his work day was over he went home, cooked supper, and watched TV. Just like everyone else. He had a life, of sorts. But that was then.
Somehow he was singled out by his superiors as above-average. So when they were approached by a anonymous customer to find him a bodyguard Nathan was their first choice. He was offered a much higher salary, and plenty of other perks - he just saw it as a promotion, heck it boosted his ego. His love-life at that point was in a lull, so whatever, he took the job.
A true story
My first clue was the fact that regardless of what eyewear I used, I was seeing halos around lights at night. Since I was often doing monovision in contact lenses, it was particularly annoying. The reason for that was simple. My dominant eye, the one corrected for distance, could read signs and generally see well in daylight. But at night, my vision was obscured by a haze especially from oncoming headlights when driving. My other eye saw a blurred image anyway because it was corrected by less than one-half of the full prescription in order to see moderate distances for reading and computer use. At my next eye exam, I found out why. But first my optometrist gave me the ‘bad’ news.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
School was a real drag, so at age 17 I escaped the drudgery of learning. Why bother, I reasoned with myself, I wouldn’t ever need any of this stuff anyway. What I didn’t realize that even menial jobs require more than a grade 12 education these days. In hindsight I probably should have become an optician, or a person who worked in an optical laboratory. Glasses, and the optical properties of different lenses was the one thing that had interested me since I was a child. But, since I had a mechanical mind I became a repairman for fuel pumps at gas stations.
I sat at the writing desk with two prescription forms in front of me. One was filled out, and the other was blank. I took a black pen from the desk, and filled in numbers on the blank. The form read, OD –25.50 x +1.00 x 015 and OS – 24.50 x +0.50 x 165. The forms were identical, except for an increase of –1.25D in the spherical correction of both eyes, and I scrawled the signature on the bottom of the new one to closely match the original. When I was finished, tears streamed from my eyes behind my thick glasses, and I muttered to myself, “I am so sorry baby, please forgive me.”
Monday, September 10, 2012
I had been checking the mailbox as soon as I arrived back at my apartment every afternoon after class for almost a week now. Finally, the package was there. I looked at the small rectangular box, and studied the name and the logo of the sender, Optical4less. I was excited, but was also a little scared to open the box containing my newest pair of glasses. My mind raced back, back to the beginning of it all.
“Kayla!” a loud voice exclaimed. “Where did you get those glasses and why are you wearing them?”
And that, at the age of seven and one half was the start of everything. I had told my friend Tanya that I could see a whole lot better when I wore her old glasses after she had gotten her new ones a few weeks ago, and I had been wearing them in private whenever possible. But, the unthinkable had just happened. I had been reading in my bedroom, and I had nodded off to sleep. Now my dad had caught me.
Friday, September 07, 2012
Amy is a very talented author, who writes blind stories. All of her stories are taken from a website that no longer exists. I enjoyed all her stories, although some are no vanilla. So, I hope you will like them, too. This is the second I have read and the second here.
by Amy Casseaux
The plane thundered down the runway and I felt the nose wheel leave the ground. A moment later, the rest of the wheels left the ground and we began rotating skyward. My fantasy vacation had begun. As soon as we reached altitude, I reached into my bag and removed a cassette player. John Grisham’s latest novel was on tape and I hadn’t heard it yet. My fingers crossed the Braille label and I found the first cassette. Into the player it went.
Thursday, September 06, 2012
by Stingray aka Eye WriteI finally found a seat in the restaurant. What is the attraction here anyway? The food is lousy, albeit cheap, it's crowded and it's noisy. I was reading today's paper. Things don't look too great in Indonesia. And then she invaded my space.
I was aware that the seat next to me was vacant, but who would have the nerve to squeeze into the tiny space elbowing me in the process. She did. Not a word was uttered. There wasn't an "excuse me" or "may I sit here?". She just sat there anyway.
I glanced up from my reading to give her a hard cold look. I couldn't help but staring at her. I think it was her dark beauty that caught my attention first. It was the straight clipped frosted hair coupled with her swarthy complexion which gave her a foreign aura and an intriguing one at that. On her face were the thickest eyeglasses I have ever seen.
Before you start reading this story you may want to read the part 1 here.
ALISON AND RICK (yes, them again!)
Under the cover of darkness, two figures pulled themselves over a high wall around the back of the deserted warehouse, and sprinted across the vast grounds. "How do we get inside?" the girl hissed as they came to a halt at the door and tried to open it. Locked tight.
The man took several paces back from the building and glanced up to the next floor. "There's a window open there," he observed. "We can probably shimmy up that waterpipe - it looks pretty secure, it's not likely to give way under our weight - and get into the building that way."
The girl smiled. "Sounds good to me. Let's do it."
Before you start reading this story you may want to read the part 1 here.
At the edge of the town, on top of a hill, was an old abandoned warehouse. It had been derelict and empty for years, but suddenly activity buzzed around it as it was renovated. No one knew what it was being turned into. Curious townies questioned the constuction workers, but they denied any knowledge of the true purpose of the warehouse. No one had told them anything. A year later, renovations were complete and the place was quiet once more. The gates were always firmly closed, so everyone was still in the dark about its purpose.
Before you start reading this story you may want to read the part 1 here.
by Christyposted 05 August 2001 12:23
When they re-opened the coal mines in Scotland's industrial belt there was no shortage of labour from impoverished mining towns in the former USSR. That's where Yuri was from - and that's how he came to be working in Scotland. It was hard work and lowly-paid work but after a year of it a whole bunch of miners decided to hire a couple of coaches and head for the Highlands. Time for a holiday - time for a Highland fling! To keep costs down everyone was given some part in the organization and Yuri's job was to take care of the drinks.
Before you start reading this story you may want to read the part 1 here.
Daniella had really been looking forward to getting her eyesight "ruined". She was hoping desperately for one of the two operations - how great would it be to come around after the anasthetic had worn off to find her surroundings foggy, only to clear as she slipped a pair of glasses on her nose?
Unfortunately, she had been told that morning that she was to be placed in the room where process four was taking place. How tedious, she thought, rolling her eyes as she walked into the room.
by Specfiend posted 25 July 2001 22:12
At the edge of the town, on top of a hill, was an old abandoned warehouse. It had been derelict and empty for years, but suddenly activity buzzed around it as it was renovated. No one knew what it was being turned into. Curious townies questioned the constuction workers, but they denied any knowledge of the true purpose of the warehouse. No one had told them anything.
A year later, renovations were complete and the place was quiet once more. The gates were always firmly closed, so everyone was still in the dark about its purpose.
Except for a select few.
Across the world, a small number of people suddenly received a strange silver envelope. It would come through their letterbox, or be left in their mailbox. Wherever they lived, each envelope contained the necessary number of return aeroplane tickets to Scotland, and a mysterious invitation printed on stiff white card.
HAVE YOUR DREAMS FULFILLED!
You know the fantasy you've always had?
Well now you can SEE your dreams come true!
Right in front of your EYES.
Each and every person knew exactly what this "fantasy" was, and interpreted the cryptic message correctly. The majority arranged time off work to travel to Scotland, to the once-derelict warehouse in the Highlands.
Maria was eager to please her husband. And it was clear he wasn't overjoyed with her vision.It wasn't bad enough for him.He was a closet glasses fetishist. Closet to all but her. In his opinion, the thicker the lenses, the more attractive the girl. He had been overjoyed when he'd discovered, when they first started dating, that she wore contact lenses. He'd persuaded her to get glasses "to wear occasionally" he'd said at the time. But then her contact lenses had mysteriously gone missing. He denied all knowledge of this, saying it was her own fault for being so careless.
One pretty day in early May, Agatha entered the Kaffee Klatsch room in the student union of the small south central Ohio college where she was a soon to graduate senior, and sat down at a table where four of her close friends were already seated. She greeted them all, and took a sip from her latte’ that she’d purchased at the counter on the way in, and the usual collegiate coed small talk resumed where it had ended when her friends returned the greeting.
Agatha was a unique and well rounded person, a basic optimist who was both intelligent and open minded, she was well liked. Her unusual given name had of course caused her some teasing over the years as well, tagging her with rather unfeminine nicknames like Agriculture Aggie, but she didn’t really care and laughed right along with her taggers. Aggie, you see, was named after a spinster great aunt who had passed on a few years earlier, endowing Aggie with a very comfortable endowment, which she managed wisely. It would have been tempting beyond resistance for most people to spend lavishly but in her case the large monthly checks were deposited in interest bearing accounts that were used to pay college costs while still allowing herself some indulgences. She didn’t buy the sports car she easily could have afforded, instead opting for a 5-year-old economy sedan that provided good basic transportation that she readily shared with her sorority sisters and other collegiate friends.
And when there was break in the conversation Aggie mentioned a new matter regarding transport, the renewal of her driver’s license. She was returning from the vehicle bureau where she had attempted to renew her license, only to find that she couldn’t!
“Oh my gosh, Aggie, why?” said Alison from across the table.
Breaking into a sheepish grin, Aggie leaned forward and in a conspiratorial tone whispered “Because I can’t see. I failed the eye exam, because I could only read the top line in the machine, the very biggest letters! The rest were a blur, and boy what a surprise. There assured me there wasn’t a big problem, all I had to do was return with glasses and I’d be renewed, but had to do it soon as my current license expires next week.”
A slight chuckle escaped Britta’s lips, and she smile broadly saying “been there, done that!” In the next breath Britta related how she’d gotten glasses prior to her first license exam, tried to pass without them and failed much as Aggie had, but was issued a license with a corrective lens restriction.
by Doreen F.
Simon and I had been colleagues for several years. At the beginning he had worked in Customer Support and I was in the Marketing Department. We had seen each other occasionally in the aisles of our company’s building, at the Christmas party and occasions like that. I had always thought that he was quite attractive and he was about the only one of my colleagues apart from two others who was about my age and the kind of guy I would feel attracted to. Whenever I saw him he was really nice and talkative. I heard a lot about him from other colleagues. According to them he was well-skilled and intelligent. He was Swedish, but was raised bilingually by his parents because only his father was Swedish. You could not tell he was not a native. After he had finished his studies in Stockholm he decided to go to his mother’s home country because job offers over here were much better for his qualifications. This much I had found out by talking to him occasionally.
About a year ago an older colleague of mine retired and Simon was promoted to my department. It was great, I saw him much more now. We were not in the same office, but our offices were opposite each other, so we would sometimes leave at the same time. Every now and then I got a glimpse of him through his open door. It was really nice, but I had never wanted to get involved with a colleague. Some of my friends had had really bad experiences and warned me about that. I assumed they were right even though I got weak knees whenever I saw Simon. I willed the attraction away and tried to talk to him as casually as I could and to behave normally. It was hard at the beginning, but it worked. Still I had been single for a very long time. Not that I did not like being on my own, but sometimes I was longing for someone to share my life with. I had really high standards about what my boyfriend should be like, but I had standards that had to be met. For a long time nobody had crossed my way who would nearly meet up to my expectations except Simon in my day dreams. At least I was not as frustrated as many of my friends were in their current relationships because they did not want to stay alone.
by Doreen F.
Shirley still could not believe it. She was a flight-attendant now or stewardess as they used to be called. Ever since she had been a girl she had wanted to become a stewardess. Shirley loved flying and was really interested in aviation; she had never wanted to become a pilot though. After her graduation Shirley went to college to study French and Spanish. When she had her degree she immediately sent out application letters to several airlines all over Europe. British Airways offered her a job and after a long time of hard training she was a flight-attendant. At the beginning she did not really work when being on a flight, but she was there to gain experience and help the others. Little by little she became more independent and after two months she had her first real day of work. This was really exciting.
by Amy Casseaux"Gwen, you really need to make it this year. You haven’t been home in so long that I’ve forgotten what you look like. Every year, you’re too busy to come visit for holidays. You haven’t been to a reunion since you moved away. Five years, Gwen!"
"Mom. I just have so much on my plate right now. I’ve got my own agency to run and things are really taking off. On top of that the home office keeps inviting me back for seminars and speaking engagements. I just don’t have time."
"As the saying goes, ‘money that she cannot spend will make no woman rich.’ Gwen, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you don’t slow down. You are not superwoman."
I smiled at that. If only she knew. My family was even more in the dark figuratively than I was in the literal sense. I wasn’t superwoman, I was super blind woman!