Blurry Bliss

Ever since I had corrective Eye Surgery, I have been afraid to be seen naked.

Confused? I understand. What does me having clear vision have to do with my fear of being seen naked?

Before I explain, let me clarify something. I don’t require a lot of naked time. Truthfully, I have never sauntered out to get the mail in the buff. All household chores, vacuuming, window washing are clothed sports.  No naked yoga.  My only semi-public naked experiences have been topless sun bathing.  No biggie right?

My topless debuts were when I was in my 20’s and 30's. I would search out a seemingly private area and pop off my bathing suit top. It felt so liberating. Like I was living on the edge of my otherwise law abiding, reliable, ordinary life.

For the record, my exposure was not linked to vanity. I never had a rocking hot body. My nakedness was motivated by the delight of feeling the sun on a forbidden area. That and an utter disconnect from of my own body’s imperfections. Unfortunately, this happy ignorance was not to last forever.

What I was about to discover was that the key to my naked confidence was my pitiful eyesight.

Since the first grade I have worn glasses. Not cutes ones, they were the clunky cheap plastic type with thick lenses. Which also explains why I have no wallet size photos from first grade. For the next couple of decades, I wore my glasses everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except for 2 places, the beach and showering.

What I didn’t realize was that I had spent my entire life not actually seeing myself naked.

Furthermore, when I was at the beach, I would snap my glasses in their case and slide on a pair of drugstore sunglasses. Through my myopic eyes, the parade of semi-clad beach bodies all looked like moving impressionist paintings. Wonderfully blurring fleshy forms.

Here’s the horrid confession. I thought people saw me, as I saw them, blurry and beautiful.

So, how bad could my eyes have been to be that deluded?

To get an idea of the extent of my blurriness, you will need to refer to that classic eye test. You know the one where there is a pyramid of letters with a huge E at the top.  The letters get smaller with each descending line. If you have perfect eyesight you can pick off letters from the infinitesimal row at the bottom.

The morning that I had my eye test, the ophthalmologist shut off the lights and popped up the slide containing the pyramid of letters. He asked me to read the smallest line I could make out clearly. I blankly swivel my head about the room and said, “ OK, just let me know when you put the test up.”  The giant E was looming straight in front of me. It’s not a good sign when you hear your doctor say “Yikes.”

Lasik eye surgery was fairly new at the time I was seriously considering it.  Canada had mastered laser correct vision before the States. I cashed in some frequent flyer miles and headed to Toronto for the surgery.

The day after my surgery, I stepped out of the shower, and caught the very first crystal clear glimpse of my naked self and gasped  “Holy Mother.”  As I stared into the mirror I scanned my naked reflection and took note of all its imperfections in searing crisp detail.

My naked illusion was gone.

That’s how corrective eye surgery robbed my confidence to be naked.

Now, if someone would ask me today if I would recommend Lasik Eye Surgery? I would say absolutely, go for it.  It is amazing to be able to read the alarm clock as you first crack your eyes open. You can swim in a lake, and actually see the dock your heading for. It’s truly a remarkable thing, to have your eyes tuned-up and ready to perform 24/7.

However, I would also pose a small warning. In particular, I would caution those who, like me, are near-sighted folk. These are my people. To those sorry misguided souls who have only been able to see up-close, whose vision blurs as you view things that are more than a couple feet away…this is my advice for you: Be gentle with yourself after the surgery. Clear vision may rob you of your naiveté. Wrinkles appear, cellulite is far more lumpy than you ever knew, and damn those varicose veins, they are like a Google map to despair.

You know how drug companies have to list all possible side affects that a medication may cause? Well, I think that the fine people at the Lasik Eye Clinics should have to give you a little heads up too.

Here is the warning that I would have liked for them to post:

Lasik eye surgery will enable you to see clearly. 

While that may sound like the goal you signed up for, 

please be aware that it also may bring some startling truth to light. 

You may be far less attractive than you previously realized.

The known side affects are, a strong desire to avert your eyes when disrobing. 

In fact, this may lead you to dress entirely behind the shower curtain, 

in an attempt to avoid the bathroom mirror.

A solution worth considering is wearing someone elses glasses when you get out of the shower,  you will find yourself back in an instant blurry bliss.

Amy Archer

This past winter I squatted in our family cottage In Rockport Massachusetts. It was a particularly harsh season to be alone in a cabin with no insulation. There were countless days that I opened the front door to grab the mail from the worn wicker mailbox outside. I had this romantic notion of obtaining a spiritual epiphany during this self-inflicted isolation. In truth I spend most of those arctic days tightly wrapped in a big bathrobe feeling squirrelly, insecure & occasionally writing about memorable moments.

Visit Amy's blog, Bathrobe Writings

My Choice - Part I

     We all make choices everyday that affect our lives and the lives of those around us daily.  It doesn’t matter how inane you think your choice is.  I have made bad decisions, like starting to smoke.  A mistake I am still fighting now.  The first time I took a drink.  I quit but not before hurting people and relationships.  I tried drugs.  I didn’t like the way weed made me feel.  It was never a high I chose to go after again.  I chose to take a fulltime job the summer of my senior year in high school and continued said job while in school.  That decision had a cause and affect.  I was driving home from work on a Tuesday night exhausted.  I fell asleep at the wheel and hit a car and crashed into a tree going 40 mph.  Launching my lifeless body through the passenger side window.  Breaking 6 ribs, three toes, and puncturing my carotid artery as my heart stopped.  If I didn’t hit that car would I be alive today?  If Mohamed weren’t driving home from his second job what time would my body have been found?  I remember calling my best friend in the world that day and in a nonchalant way asked if she could make a call to our Catholic you minister and let him know I wouldn’t be able to make our meeting that afternoon.  Not really giving out details of my almost demise.  It wasn’t until later on in the day after the surgery to repair my carotid artery did she see the damage my choice did to me.  I remember holding her hand with a tube down my throat and not able to tell her it’s going to be ok.  Having other friends, RJ, Vinnie, and Lori come visit and me crying because I knew it was possible that I would never be able to hold their hand or hug them again.  That was the worst feeling.  No amount of morphine could help with that pain.  Hearing the story of my mom walking down Pearl Street after the state trooper called her at 5 am, because she thought I was dead and couldn’t get in the truck with my dad and brother in law to come identify the body.  I was 18 and about to finish my high school career and go on to Boston College with a partial scholarship in my back pocket.

A month later I was released from Mass General Hospital.  Four long weeks of surgeries and rehabilitation to mend me.  It’s now October and I am ready to get back to normal.  I left that job and asked for my job back at Star Market on Broadway, which was given to me, no questions asked.  It was also time to get my ass back to Somerville High.  Hug all my friends and start the work of being behind by four weeks.  I had a meeting with all my teachers and most told me it was going to be hard but I was capable of doing it.  I also saw the Coach Mellilo and told him that I was not cleared to play basketball in my final year.  Hard thing to swallow but I manned up and told him.  Not that I was going to make or break the team.  I was at best going to be coming off the bench and play 15 minutes a game to spell Derek our center.  So my focus was on Spring track and field and catch up on the books.

April is here and I am barely passing my classes.  I went from a B- student to a D+ student.  No excuses here.  I didn’t hit the books hard enough.  I wasn’t focused.  I wanted to live every second to it’s fullest.  My choice to go and hang out at Revere Beach then go home and read my text books and catch up to my classmates.  My thoughts were as long as I remain where I was grade wise; I will barely graduate and go on to BC.  No harm, no foul.  Only I forgot that the finals would have questions from the first month of class.  Oops!  I think you know where this is going don’t you.  I failed English and Algebra II.  So that means, I failed off the Spring track team during an undefeated streak.  I was throwing the shot put five to ten feet further then anyone in the league.  Running anchor on the relay team and splitting time throwing the discuss or running hurdles.  Whatever the team needed to score the points we needed to get the victory.  The day the grades came out we were going against a very good Waltham team.  We barely lost.  I let my teammates down.  It didn’t matter to me that four others failed off the team.  I put the weight of the world on my shoulders.


Graduation day comes and I get dressed up to go see my fellow classmates.  I want to support them on this great day.  I take my seat among proud mothers and fathers.  I made it about fifteen minutes before I got up and walked out.  Got in my truck and drove home.  I skipped all the graduation parties I was invited to.  I curled up in my bed a broken man.  With a heavy heart I put on a smile.  It didn’t bother me that I was staying back because it was my choices that put me in the position.  All blame put squarely on my now slouching shoulders.  I was now a member of Class of ’96.  It just didn’t feel right.  I bled Somerville High Class or ’95 so I dropped out on Halloween of ’95.  I didn’t want to be apart of ’96.  Sure I had friends and was doing well grade wise.  But I was missing out on my freshman year at BC.  Making new memories, friends, etc.  I’m an 18 year old high school drop out doing what I thought would make me happy.  Get a blue collar job and forget about the piece of paper.

But it never fails.  Every year when I see the gowns and “congratulations” signs as young men and women graduation from high school and move on to college.  Every year it was like a stab wound to the gut.  My amazing ex-wife couldn’t take it anymore and convinced me to go and get my GED.  So I did in ’98.

But it still hurts every year.  Yes I am an “honorary” member of class of ’95 and not one person in the official class of ’95 has ever said anything.  I made a choice and am living with it.  But not all choices make you feel like a stab in the gut.  Stay tuned as I’m sure I will make another choice to tell you about.