Contact Lens JEWELLERY? – Are you kidding me?

Oh. My. God. My son has just shown me the vilest picture I have ever seen… nothing pornographic or bloody, he’s not that sort of person, but seeing this picture just made my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

He gets a news feed type thing from the internet on his phone, and as an ex-contact lens wearer, I suppose he thought I’d be interested. The picture showed a pretty girl, in profile, so you could see the curve of her eyeball. Draped over the edge of her eyelashes was a string of little pearl beads that was clearly attached to the contact lens she was wearing. What if she forgot and rubbed her eye? What if a fly flew in her eye and got meshed in the beads? What if she went out in the wind? How are you going to see with a string of beads flapping against your eyeball?

Now, I’m all for contact lenses. I think they’re a great invention, and having had to wear glasses since I was about five (“Specky Four Eyes”, “Swot” and so on and so forth) as soon as I was old enough, I invested in contact lenses. All at once, the world seemed so much brighter, I could wear sunglasses and look cool (very important when you’re 18 and in a nightclub) and I could actually see to apply my eye makeup!

Then there’s the downside. You have to take contact lenses out. Not an easy task when it’s three in the morning, you have over-indulged in alcohol and you’re hunched over a mirror clawing desperately at your eyeball trying to get the rotten thing out.

Then you drop them. Don’t even bother trying to find them while you’re still drunk. (Should I mention insurance at this point?) It happens when you haven’t touched alcohol in years – I was at my mother’s once, absent mindedly rubbing my eye, when yes, a lens popped out and fell on the floor. My mother’s dog, alerted by my despairing shriek came to help and accidentally got it stuck on her tongue and swallowed it. No-one was happy that day. (“Your bloody contact lens had better not poison my dog!”) My cats have also displayed unwanted and unwarranted interest in them – whilst cleaning them, I laid one on the edge of the sink only to see the cat carefully posting it down the plughole.

So I gave up. (It was quite fun, when the kids were younger: “Look Mummy’s taking her eyeball out, do you want to hold it?” and laughing while they ran away screaming.) I returned to the comfort of glasses, low maintenance and now surprisingly almost a fashion accessory. Perhaps I’ll hang a string of beads off them.

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