When I started this blog (almost three years ago), I wrote some nice thoughts about how the name “Callapidder Days” refers to the fact that I’m always changing, always growing, etc. But the truth is, my natural inclination is to resist change as strongly as my 2-year-old resists diaper changes. Which, in case you were wondering, is, indeed, strongly. It usually involves screaming, running, stomping, and a hefty dose of denial. I’m referring, of course, to my toddler’s resistance; not to mine. (Though some of those descriptors just might apply to me, as well.)

Last week, I visited the eye doctor, after too many years of avoiding that appointment. The reason for my avoidance was three-fold:

1. I was switching to a new doctor. My previous eye doctor gave me a prescription that made me dizzy and nauseated and then refused to change it for me, forcing me to get a second exam from a different doctor, who agreed to remove the dizziness-inducing element from the prescription. So I decided to switch to a whole new practice…and it took me several years to work up the gumption to find a new place and actually call to make an appointment.

2. The glaucoma-testing machine. My dad had glaucoma, so I know it’s important for me to let that little green light zoom in at my eye and then “puff.” But still, I don’t like it. I don’t like things near my eyes. I don’t like things puffing on my eyes. And also, I’ve been known to yelp when the puff surprises me. And that’s embarrassing.

3. I stink at picking out new frames. It was time for new frames; my old ones were scratched and bent. They’d served me well for four years, but it was time for a change. And there’s the rub — that whole change thing.

In the end, I overcame my resistance and visited the new vision center last week. My doctor was very nice, and I didn’t even yelp during the glaucoma test. The doctor even told me that I have “beautiful optic nerves.” I always knew there was something special about me, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Now I know: it’s my optic nerves. They’re beautiful.

But then came the moment I’d been dreading: choosing new frames.  Let me give you a little background. Here’s me in my old glasses:

I’ve always had roundish or ovalish frames. Always. For 17 years now. So I decided to try something different. I thought I’d go with something a little more square and a little less shiny.

And so, the search began. I went to every display section in the store. I tried on countless frames, scrutinized myself in the magnifying mirrors, and found nothing. With each and every pair, I thought, “No, that doesn’t look good at all.” Finally, after 20 minutes of fruitless searching, I was approached by a friendly sales associate who quickly regretted her friendliness.

She asked what I was looking for and I told her about my “more square and less shine” idea. She directed me to a seat and then scurried around the room, gathering about 25 frames for me to try. Guess how many of them I liked.

Zero. Maybe I should just stick with my old frames.

More scurrying by the friendly sales associate, although by this time, her smile was looking a bit more pasted-on. Another tableful of frames.

This time, with a little coercion, I decided I liked three frames. But there was no way I was going to be able to narrow it down any further.

Exasperated, I asked her, “Which ones do you think I should get?”

I think sales associates are trained to not answer this question, because she did a lot of hemming and hawing and saying things like, “I think you should pick the pair that you’re going to love.” Which wasn’t helpful at all.

So I did a little coercion of my own and finally she pointed to one pair and said, “I think that pair looks best on you. And they’re very stylish.”

Since I have the fashion sense of a tree stump, I just took her word for it.

And since the pair she pointed out was the least expensive of the three, I decided to go for it.

The finished glasses arrived in the store on Thursday and when I went to pick them up, another associate gushed, “Oh, I just love these glasses!” I hoped I would love them too.

But when I got home, I wasn’t convinced. They certainly were different. More square, yes. Less shiny, yes. But half rimless, which I’ve never done. And the sides/temples have this funky double-barred, two-tone design. A little flashy for a girl who spends most of her time in jeans and fleece pullovers. I looked in the mirror for a long time trying to decide if I could really go out in public in these things. And then I wondered if I should have just skipped the whole change thing and gone with a nice, no-risk, ovalish pair.

I decided to ask the most brutally honest people in this house: the kids.

First, I approached L. (2). He stared at my face for a long, long time, with a very contemplative look on his face. and then announced, “Nice!” So far, so good.

C. (10) wasn’t as sure, but he attempted to compliment me anyway: “Actually, they don’t look half bad.” I’m not sure what that means. Do they look half good? Or maybe more than half bad? 49% bad and 51% good? I have no idea.

But whether they look good or not, they’re mine. And I’m certainly not going to go through the hassle of picking out another pair. Besides, I’m sure if I show up there anytime soon, the friendly sales associate will suddenly have an “emergency” and need to leave immediately.

Are you curious? Okay, here’s the new look. The pained look on my face is because this is probably the fifty-third picture I took of myself this morning (attempting to minimize the “fine lines” around my eyes, the shinyness, and the extra chins), and my smiling muscles were just plain tired.

And because I’m sure you came here today wanting to see a zoomed-in picture of my eye the fancy double-barred design, I’ll show you that too.

I’m still not sure. But change is good. Right? Or at least, change is something you get used to after a while… I hope.