To See or Not to See

Having had glasses since kindergarten, I have a lot of experience with optometrists.  I remember as a kid, going to the eye-doctor in Liverpool where my family lived.  My mom brought my little sister and I in together and as I sat in the over-sized chair with the over-sized eye-measuring tool pressed to my face I was always nervous that the optometrist would force me to use eye drops.  It would always sting.  My younger sister would always feel bad as she watched me struggle to identify the objects being projected onto the wall and would do her best to help out.  She would often times loudly whisper to me.  "It's a duck,"  despite my mom's efforts to tell her that she was not actually doing me a favor.  As I got older, and my vision got progressively worse,  I was forced to wear glasses that made my eyes look ten times larger than their actual size.  Although my optometrist reassured me that, "it made me look smarter,"  I usually hid my glasses in my backpack when I got onto the school bus.  It was not until middle school that experiences with the optometrist finally improved. I got contacts.