Electrolicious

I’m finally admitting to myself that my post-Lasik vision of 20/40 in my right eye is a little problematic for stuff like long hours of computer work and movies. I could go back and get that eye touched up with a laser, but honestly it’s just not bad enough to justify the risk/discomfort — how stupid would I feel if something went wrong and I was like, “Oh, where did my right eyeball go? Well, I couldn’t quite read street signs 100 yards away, so I did another round of Lasik…” It’s totally not noticeable when I’m puttering around daily life. But when I’m working for eight hours, I start to notice that the wee fonts aren’t so crisp …

So I’m making an appointment with my beloved friends at Eyes on Fremont and going in to get a pair of “sometimes” glasses. I will admit that I’m actually a little excited. I’ve missed my funky frames. I will also admit that I’m a little worried I’ll get re-dependent on glasses, once I remember just how crisp corrected vision can be.

But regardless, I got no regrets about the lasik. 20/40 as compared to whatever I was before (my contacts were -5.25) is no biggie.

Those of you who had been waiting with bated breath will be pleased to hear that I AM NOT BLIND! My Lasik was a raging success, and the doctor even complimented me repeatedly on my calmness and ability to stay totally deathly still as a small mechanized scalpel cut a flap in my eyeball and then a laser burned my flesh! (Dude, worst part? I could totally smell it. It was like catching a whiff of a barbecue, except for it was my cornea on the grill!)

I told my doctor that my state of exceptional still calmness was thanks to my coworker Nick, who had advised me to go into “the yoga zone” during surgery, but it also may have been thanks to the valium they gave me and the squishy stuffed fish they insisted I hold onto during surgery (uh…wtf??). Anyway: IT WORKED! I slept for 12 hours and now … I CAN SEE!

For those of you fretting over the green glasses (raise your hand if you’ve been losing sleep!), I’m going to go get them fitted with clear lenses today so that I can continue to use them as a smart person prop and color-coordinated accessory when needed. My friend Patrick has informed me that this makes me a traitor — a four-eye poseur. This may be true.

Have I mentioned that my LASIK surgery is tomorrow? As part of my research, I forced myself to look at pictures of the procedure. Tomorrow that will be me, Clockwork Orange-style. I will be wide awake, but heavily sedated and in that special place that I can go into during yoga, pap smears, dental work, and other times of out-of-body calmness.

Dre and I are still going to yoga. We always at least make it to one Ashtanga primary series a week, and then usually another vinyasa class on top of that. It’s going pretty well and feels like a good way to work my muscles.

A few years ago I tried working out in a gym with weights, and the result was that my arms got fucking HUGE. And it wasn’t really attractive to me. Then I tried running stairs for six months last year. The result was that my ass got fucking HUGE from the glute muscle mass. My goal was to have my jeans fit better, not worse. Realistically, the issue is that I have a stocky, muscular body that’s awfully soft, but when given a chance turns into a little bulky hulk. Hence, yoga is a great choice because it stretches those bulky muscles out, and I can use all the lengthening I can get.

Andreas and I are perfectly opposite in our yoga practices: I’m the amazing gumby girl, and I can fold in half, and twist in two without blinking. Andreas, meanwhile grunts as he tries to reach his toes, but is the master of strength. While I quiver in fear over the idea of (gulp) putting any weight on my hands, he’s hanging out for 20 breaths at a time, happily heels over head. Between the two of us, we’re one decent yogi. Wonder twin deficiencies — unite!

The weirdest aspect for me about yoga is that I’m blind when I practice. I don’t wear my glasses or contacts and this weird thing happens: when I can’t see anybody, I assume nobody can see me. Our yoga teachers probably think I’m weird little woman, because my face is always totally vacant and I can never tell when they’re looking at me so I don’t ever give them any sort of cues that I’m listening. Whatever: it actually helps me sort of turn the focus internally when I can’t even see my mat.