Personal Narrative: My First Pair Of Glasses

Elise Forst

American lit/ Cristiano

November 13, 2014

Narrative essay

My first pair of glasses were a deep plum color, which soon turned a faded red because of my puerile neglect habits, and had a wide rectangular shape that framed my chubby fourth-grade cheeks. Before my glasses everything around me had no defined shape or color, everything seemed to blend together like splotches of paint, and as a result I lagged behind in school. I squinted and strained my eyes just to see the board, the words becoming somewhat defined as my eyes got smaller and smaller, and finally my teacher took notice and talked with my parents. A wave of horror washed over me as they explained what course of action was going to be taken, and all that could came to mind were images of a pimpled awkward teen with big awkward glasses to match, that I was absolutely sure to transform into. But I wore them regardless albeit reluctantly. The first day back to school was a mixture of shame

By the time I had reached 6th grade and gone through three pairs of glasses, they had become an integral part of my life. They formed a barrier between me and the outside. I relied and supported on them to give me one of my basic senses, and that led to a heavy dependence without which I feel vulnerable. Today my glasses of one year are a light translucent plastic with splotches of a watercolor blue that shines purple in certain lights and a Warby Parker crest emblazoned on the side, they have cuts and scratches on the lenses that remind me of the everyday necessity that they have become. I love the variety that glasses give me and the way they can completely change my face with a different color or frame. They have become such a part of me that I never take them off, except to sleep and shower, and very few of my friends can say they have seen me without them