I haven’t gotten a new pair of glasses since…right before I moved to Washington, which was about four and a half years ago.  So my jaunt to the optomotrist today was neatly divided between excitement and nerves.

See, glasses were a daily part of my life between second and eighth grades, and I was never what one would describe as a bespectacled beauty. Take typical childhood and preadolescent awkwardness and then add an extra dose of self-consciousness and you arrive at Me, circa early youth.

For some reason, I thought successfully begging my parents for contacts would result in the end of feeling ugly. The only thing holding me back, I told myself, was the set of frames that blocked my eyes from the rest of the world.

That…didn’t happen. It helped, though. And every pair of backup glasses I’ve had since (with the exception of the Washington pair) made me feel as if I was labeling myself as “ugly again” the moment I put them on.

Some people say eyeglasses are a quirky, adorable accessory. I passionately disagreed.

However, the reliance on contacts was pushing me into dangerous territory — just asking for some bit of dust or long night to render my eyes blurry, red and contact-incondusive. And since my luck indicated that just such a fate would befall me in a couple of weeks, when I am supposed to be busy writing my brains out on the other side of the country, I decided it was time to suck it up and get a new pair.

And know what?

I actually feel pretty gosh-darn cute. Bespectacled and all.

I think I’m making some progess on this whole self-esteem thing.