I have discovered a hidden benefit of needing reading glasses: there are things I no longer see.
First, there’s what’s in the mirror. Becoming farsighted as you age is nature’s way of saying: Now, I don’t want to scare you, but maybe it’s best you don’t look too closely anymore. Listen to nature. Nature may have got it very wrong with spiders, ew; but in this case, she knows what she’s doing.
A friend of mine has a 15 x magnification mirror in her powder room. Why would you do that! You won’t be surprised to learn she is utterly terrified of aging. Or possibly just terrified, as she’s got a Stephen King marathon running 24-7 in her ensuite.
Look, there’s nothing wrong with wrinkles; they are part of life, and I personally much prefer the beautiful, wrinkled visages of French women d’un certain âge to the stretched-taut alternatives of more youth-bedevilled cultures.
I’m simply saying there’s no need to focus on them, that staying subtly out of focus may stop us from growing fretful over something we can’t avoid. There’s plenty more to worry about (send a stamped, self-addressed envelope for my 724-page alphabetized listing.)
And then there’s housekeeping. Saving your spectacles for reading also puts an end to domestic goddess standards.
Hey, this sink is pristine!
Wow, that carpet is entirely fluff-free!
Geez, those windows are in no way smudgy!
It’s delightful how everything around me looks immaculate these days.
Photo credit: Evgeniy Alekseyev
