When I was seventeen,  an eye doctor, who smelled strongly of old spice and good tobacco, told me that I would eventually lose sight in both of my eyes (one already being 95% blind since the early eighties) thanks to macular degeneration.

When I was twenty-three, a specialist, who smelled of Hugo Boss and good leather, clarified the other diagnosis with one semi-insulting query:

“Were you raised on a farm?”

Turns out that the aforementioned blindness in my right eye was not caused by any sort of degenerative eye disease so much as by a nifty little thing called toxoplasmosis. (You know… that thing that gives you an excuse to pass over the kitty litter duty during pregnancy.)

This new diagnosis was great in the fact that I would not be going blind.

Gross in the fact that, somewhere along my hazard-filled, unsupervised, Lord of the Flies-esque childhood, I touched poop.

Ewwww.

Being blind in one eye, as sucky as it is, does have its advantages, however. For starters, I get to load my kids off on the nearest sucker with two working eyes whenever some super-duper-so-fabulous-oh-mom-I’m-so-flippin’-excited-I-could-pee-myself-and-can-I have-popcorn-please cartoon comes out in 3D. (Neener. Neener.)

And then there’s that no-doctor-worth-his-Hugo-Boss-prescribes-a-blind-chick-contacts need for the super-hot-slutty-librarian glasses.

Thirdly…

Well…

Ummmm…

Uhhhh…

Aren’t my new glasses just too cute?!@&@?