I finally saw the optometrist yesterday. My mother set up the appointment with this guy she’s followed through three clinics and now works out of his house – a neat man, and really nice to talk to.
He’s checking both our eyes, and asks “Can I have your glasses to measure, young lady?”, and my mother, being nearer hands him her glasses. “No, the other young lady”. I hand him my glasses, and I get death glares from my mother as I don’t correct him.
He writes down “F” on my forms, and says that my birthname on the forms is a funny name for a girl. My mother extends the death glares in his direction too.
I get directed to the women’s glasses in both of the shops we go into, too. After a while, my mother started relaxing that we were shopping in the same section, and we started helping each other pick frames, she some oval and tawny colored ones, me blue-framed and more rectangular.
Things are good. Pictures coming when my new glasses arrive.