Baby Boomers Diary: Becoming Mrs Magoo

Hello, fellow Baby Boomers.

It's inevitable, I'm afraid.

I will turn into the female version of Mr Magoo in the not too distant future.

I'm very nearsighted. Have been since I was a child.

I always assumed that as I got older, my eyesight would "even out". As the age for needing reading glasses or bifocals approached, my nearsightedness would turn into relatively normal vision. And for about 6 seconds, I'd have normal 20/20 vision.

But life doesn't work like that.

So now, I'm not only myopic, I've got presbyopia as well (presbyopic - from the latin for "no fun". It means I now have middle-aged eyes that won't dance at parties, or drink on Sundays).

Now, when I'm wearing my contacts to correct my "regular" blindness, I also need to wear reading glasses on top.

How unfair is that?

Plus, I'm vain, and refuse to wear bifocal glasses with the dreaded "line". So I've got varifocals. Which are a right royal pain in the butt to get used to.

So I'm staggering around the house, trying (and failing) to focus on the bits of lens I'm supposed to be seeing through, getting all woozy, and having to clutch at furniture to stop myself from pitching over and braining myself on the sideboard.

So in 20 years time, when you're driving through Northern Ontario and get stuck behind a car being driven erratically (but extremely slowly, and in the middle of the road), and you overtake, giving the proverbial finger to the little old lady hunched over the steering wheel, that'll be me.

But I won't see your one-fingered salute, because I'll be peering out at the world through prescription lenses the thickness of old-fashioned Coke bottles, with dollar-store reading glasses perched on top.

Mrs Magoo.

So, what do you have to say to that, eh?

Go on, you know you want to...