Geepers, creepers…where’d you get those bionic peepers?

Photo de photobunny

Did you know breastfeeding leads to x-ray vision? After several years of being milked, you and your two eyeballs are diagnosing hair-line fractures and learning that your neighbor wears his wife’s red satin thongs under his business attire on Fridays.

As part of my Mother’s Day swag, I visited my friendly Costco optometrist yesterday for my overdue yearly eye exam. I’m tired of looking like a physically abused librarian with my warped glasses. Since I haven’t caressed the surface of my eyes with my fingertips in over a year, I needed an updated prescription for contact lenses.

And, optometrists, unlike dentists, don’t boogity-boo scare me. So, I’m cool hanging out with the peeper doctor on a regular basis. (do.not.ask how often i visit the dentist…basically, my lower jaw will have to fall to the floor before i can be dragged into the dentist’s chair)

Your basic eye exam with a few changes. The initial ‘let’s get a look at those eyes’ apparatus – I’m gazing upon a precious little house on a hill, only it keeps alternating between, “Damn, I shouldn’t have had that last case of beer” blurry and “Damn, these are some vivid hallucinogens” sharply clear. Apparently, this was the computer giving me its personal eye exam to outdate the trained human in the room. After it prescribed my lenses, the computer and I played an engaging game of Global Thermonuclear War.

Another change – instead of adding numbing drops to my eyes followed by the pressure check, I experienced the “air puff” test. This was equivalent to opening a can of biscuits in front of each eye. POP! POP! Rather, PUFF! PUFF! but that doesn’t quite get across the startle nature of having air randomly “puffed!” at each eye. I hate being startled. Jack-in-the-box…I loathed that particular toy. The guy in the haunted house who jumps out at you with a buzzing chainsaw? Also, not my cup of chai.

The remainder of the exam was your usual Better? Worse? Better? Worse? which always makes me feel like I’m choosing the wrong ‘answers’ thus permanently effing up my eyesight. I never give confident replies. “Umm, that one? Maybe? I don’t know? My name is Tiffany? I’ll be your waitress?”

Ah, but the great news. My vision has improved since my last exam (January, 2007). Three powers better in one eye and two powers better in the other. (powers? i’m not sure of the correct lingo. 3-something and 2-something better) Kicka$$, eh?

As I’ve lost all semblance of social skills, I rambled incessantly throughout the exam about the twins, Gab, breastfeeding night and day, and may have even alerted her when my milk let down midway through the exam. My personal ’shut-up’ sensor is irreparably broken.

So, when it came time to tell me the results, proving she was actually paying attention to my babble, she inquired, “You said you were breastfeeding, correct?” Oh, like a thousand times in the tiny 15-minute window, yes. She had read a recent study on breastfeeding and its potentially positive effects on eyesight of both mom and baby(ies). Seeing the great improvement in my vision after 2 1/2 years of virtually constant breastfeeding really brought the study home. Isn’t that great? I joked, “Heck, I’ll just breastfeed everybody I know, even strangers on the street, and work my way back to perfect 20-20 vision. Thirsty? All in the interest of improved eyesight.”

She wasn’t interested in a mid-afternoon drink.