Getting old smacks you in the face sometimes.
Like today, when the optometrist said to me, "Those readings mean you're ready for bifocals."
I knew the day was coming. I often lift my glasses when I'm trying to adjust the radio station in the car, and I've been known to thread a needle with my glasses off. Yes, Dr. B's proclamation was no surprise.
"It isn't going to get any better, you know," he added. The sympathetic look on his face sent me into a fit of laughter.
"I know, I know," I said, nodding my head as I shook his hand.
I packed up my purse, checked out with the receptionist, and placed an order for bifocals with the optical shop.
My grandma used to wear bifocals. My dad wears them now. Somehow it doesn't seem right that a body that can still get pregnant must rely on bifocal lenses to see. I'm hoping that my view is a good one.