Friday, November 28, 2014

Take off your glasses!

I dated a few boys before I met Ron.  I "liked" another boy at church. 

Their mothers all said the same thing, I "Had a cute figure" - "cute" being synonymous with "flat", I suppose.  Little did they know I'd end up here. 

So, we'd go on a date.  The first date I recall - a trip to the ice cream parlor about a mile from my home.  We walked from my house. 

John (the boy I was dating, he was far more into me than I was him), wanted to get a shake, or a malt.  With two straws, for me and my girl.  So far, so good. 

We each loaded up a straw and started working on the beverage.  He gazed at me adoringly as I squirmed awkwardly (I was about 12). 

"Heather" he sighed.  "Take off your glasses.  I want to see your eyes!" 

They're the same eyes, I thought.  I was also worried because I knew my eyeglasses were very expensive.  John reached for them.  I stopped him and took the glasses off, terrified I would break them. 

My Dad had always told me "Never take them off unless you are bathing or sleeping."  I positioned the glasses as safely as I could, away from both John and the edge of the table.  He stared at me adoringly. 

"Oh, that's so much better.  I can see you now!"  I felt so awkward.  Me, without glasses, isn't me. 

If I ever date again, I would not let a man do that.  Either you understand I am my glasses, or you move on.  

It wasn't just John.  Years later, manic, I began dating a guy with serious rage issues.  He was an angry schitzophrenic.  I didn't know any of that at the time, but sure enough, he wanted me to take my glasses off every minute we spent together. 

When I found out about his rage issues, I begged God to help me get out of this.  As you may know, a stalker at my Dad's workplace nearly cost him his life.  I was terrified of stalkers. 

I knew the guy smoked.  He had been wanting me to hang out in the smoking area with him, and to begin smoking. 

"Get judgemental about the smoking" God let me know "He'll dump you".  I did and he did. 


Then of course I met Ron.  He could care less about my glasses.  He was clever, though. 

I don't know if your local mall has the little photo booth.  My local mall did.  So, on one of our first dates, Ron and I went to the mall. 

"I want a picture of you" Ron said endearingly.  "I want to carry it in my wallet"  OK.  We took photos.  (The small, terrible quality photo in my slide show - that's it).  He took them home. 

Then he called his friends and asked them to come over.  How did she look?  Was she cute? 

They told him I was "cute" - there's that word again.  He called me, pleased, and told me I had passed inspection. 

Really!  A blind guy worried his girlfriend might be a dog?  But Ron is very charming when he puts his mind to it. 

Ron, of course, looked a lot like a terror suspect.  I didn't care.  Looks have never been important to me, as long as he's clean and his hair brushed. 

I groom myself, keep myself presentable, but you'll never catch me primping.  I brush my hair, brush my teeth, shower, hair tie, and that's it. 

When I got my new glasses, everyone said they were "cute".  I agree. They are much better on my face. 

Happily, I only have to take them off when I shower, or sleep. 

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