I am in the optometrist’s office, looking through the carousels of eye glasses.
My parents had noticed me scooting closer and closer to the television while watching Sesame Street. The doctor explained that my left eye is weaker, causing blurred vision. Glasses will correct the problem.
I gravitate toward the colorful frames, and find the perfect ones. They are burgundy, with itsy bitsy strawberries on the sides of the arms. And bonus, they come with a shiny red and white padded case with a long strap that I sling around my shoulder like a purse.
I love my new glasses, until the next day at school when some boy calls me “four-eyes.”
My parents had noticed me scooting closer and closer to the television while watching Sesame Street. The doctor explained that my left eye is weaker, causing blurred vision. Glasses will correct the problem.
I gravitate toward the colorful frames, and find the perfect ones. They are burgundy, with itsy bitsy strawberries on the sides of the arms. And bonus, they come with a shiny red and white padded case with a long strap that I sling around my shoulder like a purse.
I love my new glasses, until the next day at school when some boy calls me “four-eyes.”
RSS Feed
