There is a girl wearing lens-less frames at work today. She is wearing contacts, with lens-less frames. She says that her eyes are swollen from an infection and she needs to wear glasses with no lenses to protect them. Interesting concept. I wear glasses myself and know only too well the discomfort that they cause me day in and day out. Eventually you do get use to them, however if I had the opportunity to never wear them again I would be grabbing it with both hands (and no glasses). But here this girl is, wearing glasses for the sake of wearing them. Why? Fashion? Surely not, they are hideous. Comfort? We’ve established the impossibility of that already. Prescription? Nope.
I have been sitting here trying to think of a legitimate reason as to why one would wear glasses that don’t serve a purpose. At least put some clear lenses in them for god’s sake! I immediately found myself restraining my hand as it rose towards her face…I wanted to poke her in the eye, just to prove she wasn’t fooling anyone.
It got me thinking; when you were a child do you remember wearing a Band-Aid just because you wanted to? Not because you cut yourself or fell off your bike, purely ‘just because’. I tried to remember why my friends and I enjoyed sporting those little plasters but I can’t for the life of me work it out.
I had this one kid in my primary school that used to walk around with a limp hand, holding it close to her chest like it was broken. Her hand wasn’t gammy or gimpy, and she certainly wasn’t disabled in any way, shape or form. Her hand had fully grown and was fully functional. She just liked to look as though there was something not quite right. I haven’t worked that one out either.
This train of thought led me on to the other weird things that kids used to do, things that I would never have thought were odd at the time but with the remarkable tool that is ‘retrospect’ I’m starting to recall things that, now, seem slightly odd .
My best friend use to love me drawing in pen on her because it put her to sleep in class. Between her falling asleep and me getting crafty with phallic like shapes on her arms, we didn’t get a whole lot of algebra done. We both failed year 9 maths. Go figure.
One of my sisters and I use to hold our breath if the car ever drove past a cemetery. Apparently it saved us from inhaling ‘death’ and added an extra day onto our already pre-determined life length. Other interesting idiosyncrasies that my sister and I would get up to included washing our bikes. That’s right – spending our Saturday afternoons with toothbrushes, ensuring that every inch, every spoke, every piece of dirt and grime was destroyed only to ride it through mud at the park. Counterproductive much?!
How about digging holes in the backyard and burying things? Normal? Not unless you’re a dog. Needless to say a lot of personal effects were never found again due to a lack of mapping skills.
Coming home from school would also require an entrance through the bedroom window, rather than using our keys in the front door. Why? Can’t really answer that. Perhaps, at age 12, I was having an existential crisis of sorts and felt there was a lack of adventure in my life. Perhaps I thought the best way to solve this was to manufacture some by hitching open the window, throwing my school bag through and drop-rolling in like a robber? That was funny until the day that we were actually robbed – talk about taking jokes too far. And while we are on the subject of taking jokes too far, I’d like to ask my mum for the first time in 26 years – why were my sister and I (who is three years younger) dressed identically until I was 15? Child abuse.
There was a stage when my girlfriends would buy exactly the same clothing as each other and then actually make plans to ensure that they were matching at the next school mufti-day or party. Tensile jeans, pedal pushers, Mr Happy t-shirts, clogs – I’m pretty sure that this went on for a few years before they worked out that their parents were laughing at them (you know who you are). I’m mortified if I turn up to an event these days and someone is wearing the same thing as me. What were they thinking?
Being the eldest of 5 children gives me a swag of stories about strange things that kids do – but for fear of boring my nearest and dearest ill relent. However…If I get to the bottom of the faux glasses, ill let you know.