But the OptiMap costs $33 extra, not covered in his $128 exam, so I chose to be dilated. He allowed me to do my own dripping, then sent me with Kay, the contact lens gal, to get prices on contacts while my eyes transformed into beautiful baby blacks.
Kay’s a fun gal of 27, and our personalities clicked. As we sat across an itty-bitty table from each other, she started filling out a price sheet for two different contact lens brands I was testing. We volleyed complaints about our bodies. Even if God did make us this way, s/he doesn’t typically give us perfection. Kay wanted me to find fault in her cute little nose, and I acknowledged that fear struck me back from having a nose job my friend offered to pay for.
We were cavorting much too loudly for a quiet optometrist’s office, but we kept rolling. She looked up at me, holding a card to her left. “The details about this lens are on this card. See?”
“No,” I honestly replied.
“Oh. Yeah,” she said, remembering my age and pulled the card way back, then thrust it toward me, then pulled it back and forth again, teasing the old-eyed gal across the table.
“Are my pupils dilated yet?” I asked expressively.
“Yes, they are,” she affirmed.
Just then, CJ, a young former Air Force policeman, joined us. “Bet it looks like I’m tripping on acid,” I ventured.
“Definitely,” CJ threw in.
“My pupils have always grown and contracted rapidly. Sometimes not at the same time,” I admitted, thinking maybe I’d messed up in high school.
“That’s probably normal,” Kay said.
“Kind of makes ya wonder what I’m thinking about. You know, sex, dilate, laundry, contract, sex, laundry… Glad it’s not like that when you’re giving birth. The gynecologist would say, ‘I see the baby’s head. Now I don’t. Now I do!’”
What are you thinking about? C’mere, let’s have a closer look at those pupils.
Do you really want to know what some people are thinking? Maybe some thoughts are better left untold.
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