Thursday, June 7, 2018

I Hated, Hated, Hated, Hated, Hated Those Glasses

From December 1998: a New Year's Eve party with my soon-to-be inlaws. The five-'o-clock shadow is bad enough, but why did I wear the glasses? That was before the glasses reminded me of a consultant at a former workplace who wore a similar style. That consultant was clueless to the things we were going through as a station, and more importantly, clueless to the things I was going through since getting promoted off of weekends and into a whole new can of worms.

Photos from my past and the tales they tell.
I've previously shared the level of said cluelessness and what I wished I could've said but didn't. After that experience, I soured on wearing the frames. Before I left the Rio Grande Valley, I got myself into a pair of contacts. They didn't slide off my nose, and even though learning how to put them in required me to get over flinching when something got close to my eye, I never went back.

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