Yesterday the husband and I finally got around to hitting the vision center for new glasses. His were easy (though OMG expensive) with the progressive no-line bifocal, Nikon lenses and that Transition tint where they darken automatically in the sun. I’d decided I was getting the Transition tint, too, because I’ve never been able to wear sunglasses.
Well, much to the husband’s annoyance, I started waffling wicked bad once decision time came. I tried to explain to him that I’ve worn glasses since I was about six—twenty-nine years? holy crap—and the thought of changing anything about them is a little scary. What if I hate them? Without my glasses I can’t function, can’t leave the house. I have about ten minutes without them before the headache and nausea kicks in. He told me it’s not plastic surgery, but to me it’s that anxiety-causing.
Then, no doubt taking pity on him, the vision center lady explained I have sixty days to try them. Some people do hate them and that’s okay. Plus my prescription didn’t really change so if I can’t tolerate the change, I can wear the ones I have now while waiting for new lenses. They’ll be in by the 30th, so I’m pretty excited and pretty nervous all at once.
In other news, not wanting to be among the half-dozen people on the planet not talking about it, the husband and I watched “Moment of Truth” last night. (If one of those half-dozen people should stop by—that’s the lie detector show on Fox).
I was a little apprehensive. While I’ll admit to laughing during the promo commercials, it was kind of an “OMG, they did NOT just ask that!” laugh. You’ve probably all seen the commerical sample questions:
Would you donate a kidney to save your father’s life?
Do fat people repulse you? (Asked by an overweight woman I hope isn’t his girlfriend/wife, but with this show, it might be.)
Do you see yourself still married to your husband five years from now?
Watching it did answer one of my questions—how they were going to factor stage fright, crowd-caused anxiety and whatnot into the results. I guess they privately, before the show, hook the contestant up to the lie detector and ask over fifty questions. Twenty-one of those are then used in the show. So the contestant isn’t hooked up on the stage.
I had mixed reactions to the show. On the one hand, some of the squirming was funny. (While a football player, did you ever sneak a peek at another player’s privates in the shower?) Some was not. (Are you delaying a decision on having kids because you don’t think Catia is your life-long partner?)
Even while watching it, there was a part of my brain that was horrified we’ve reached the point where destroying friendships and families is entertainment for the masses. I know the contestant signed up, but…I really think you would have to totally not give a shit about anybody in your life in order to win the $500,000.
Even though I watched the whole thing (and the husband liked it, so we’ll be watching again) I felt a little dirty afterwards, and I hope it dies a quick death.