Welcome to the next stage

I finally acquiesced and went to the chemist and bought myself some 1+ reading glasses.

Of course, I took my style consultants (my two children) so I wouldn’t embarrassingly pick the wrong pair that made me look frumpy or odd or, OMG, old.

But it was a moment when I thought, ‘We’ve come to this. I’m at that age. I now need glasses.’

Not all the time. Most of the time, I’m fine. But it’s in the evenings, when my eyes are tired and there’s low light, everything goes fuzzy. And I’d stopped reading in bed because of it.

Now I put the glasses on and think, ‘Woah! Why didn’t I do this sooner! The clarity. The crispness. The clear delineation of each word. It’s beautiful!’

But I know why I didn’t do it earlier. We’ve even discussed it at a few dinner parties.

It means something. It marks a stage in your life. A bit like when your youngest child begins school. Or your final child finishes Year 12.

I’m no longer a person with a baby or a toddler or a pre-schooler. I’m no longer a person who has kids at school. I’m no longer a person who doesn’t need glasses.

It’s all fine. Of course, it is. It’s just another stage. Neither better or worse. (Although I must say, that I did enjoy the day I got both my kids into school. That was a game changer).

I now have teenage children. And I now wear reading glasses. Welcome to the next stage.

(BTW, I took a few photos for this post, and my kids laughed at every one of them. This is perhaps the least worst?)

Jodie Benveniste

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