Boys Don't Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses

Ya yah whatever. So I went to the eye doctor today to replace my glasses. You know, my glasses? The glasses I wear? No wait, that's right. I put them in my pocket way back when I was working for Barnes and Noble, and subsequently snapped them in half when I squatted to re-shelve a book. It was less than excellent.

I'm really not blind at all, but glasses help me a ton when I'm driving or trying to take notes in class. So I've missed those little glasses of mine. They were the same frames Ugly Betty wears, but I swear I had them first. She's a copy cat.

So I went into the eye exam room with Mama Booth (I don't know, I just don't like going to the doctor's by myself okay?!) and got to sit in the special chair with all the weird gadgets. The exam was going pretty awesomely until the Doc decided to do a glaucoma test. He put these bright yellow eye numbing drops in my eyes and it immediately felt like my eyeballs were shrinking. Like there was too much room in my eye sockets. It made me a little queasy, but I endured it well.

That is, I endured it well until he started looking at my retinas. For some odd reason, I could somehow see the reflection of my own retina when he shined his little eye flashlight into my eyeball. At first it was kind of cool.

"I can see all the blood vessels in my eye!" I said semi-excitedly, but then I realized that I was looking at all the spidery veins in the back of my eyeball and I seriously almost threw up right then and there all over the eye gadgets. I tried not to focus on the image, but duh, I couldn't close my eyes so I was forced to look at the innards of my own disgusting eyeball.

To say I am squeamish would be an understatement. Usually, I only get nauseous at the doctor's when they try to take blood or put an IV in me. I can now add the glaucoma test to my list of near vomit-inducing medical situations. And that's not even the best/worst part. But its kind of graphic, so the feint of heart please avert your eyes. All I'm going to say is, your eye drainage ducts are connected to your nasal passages, which in turn are connected to your throat. Throw in some yellow eye drops, and you've got a recipe for the necessity to hang my head out of the car window and spit whilst traveling 60 mph on the freeway. Yep. That happened.

I believe that makes me the queen of the weak-stomached wimps. Who else almost throws up at the eye doctor?