First, a caveat. I love sunglasses. I cannot exist without them. After more than a decade of wearing contact lenses, I find my eyes more sensitive to light than ever, and sunglasses are therefore essential to my day-to-day living. Also, on a more conceited note, every beauty column I've ever read about wrinkles says the number one culprit for those fine, telltale age lines around the eyes is our continual squinting on sunny days. That said, I wear sunglasses religiously. I am hardly ever without a pair, even if the weather is predicted to be grey or clouded.
And I am nearly as fanatic about the style of the sunglasses as I am about their presence. They must be:
*WITHOUT nosepieces (otherwise when one pushes the sunglasses back on one's head, one inevitably finds them hopelessly entangled in one's tresses)
*rectangular in shape (again, the conceited part of me wants a shape that will flatter my round- to heart-shaped face)
All other colors, shapes and styles are "verboten." Case in point: a family friend and employer once made me a [terribly and inappropriately personal and exorbiantly expensive] gift of a pair of grass green metallic Oakleys. The buggy-eyed shape and the color made me look like an extra from the Broadway production of "Lord of the Flies." I know it sounds old-ladyish, but with sunglasses, I wholeheartedly subscribe to the notion of "if it fits, buy it in every color," so long as every color is tortoiseshell.
But true to the Aquarian character I've touched upon in my previous post, my need, my constant desire for sunglasses, is sometimes ummm, interrupted by my slightly scattered nature. While I may need them constantly, sometimes the pairs I own are a little hard to locate.
Such was the case today. It was the first sunny day we've had in nearly two weeks, and the snow was blindly white, which was made all the less tolerable by the dry, blowing crystals spinning through the air. My job involves a fair amount of windshield time, going back and forth from our main office to various customer locations over a four county area, so I usually have an extra pair of "Sonnenbrille" in my (COPIOUS) bag. Murphy's Law, however, was in full effect this Groundhog's Day, and I found myself without proper UV protection. All the way to my afternoon appointment I was glancing furtively in the rearview mirror, squinting, mumbling, and cursing the wrinkles I could see forming each second I was subjecting my delicate eyes and surrounding skin to the ravages of a sunny Wisconsin February day. Some irrational part of me "knows" that every line my face will ever sport is going to be a result of today's ultraviolet assault. And they thought teenage angst was bad: try pre-thirtysomething complexion complexes!
Thus, my previous post: "Never underestimate the importance of a good pair of sunglasses."