top of page

Who is That Man?

The other day I went to my optometrist for an annual check up. At the conclusion, I decided that I needed to update my glasses as my prescription had changed more than a little.

I was turned over to a technician who went over what I needed and checked to ensure I was getting what I wanted. This was all done very professionally.

At one point, she had to take my existing glasses away to make a tracing of the frames so that the new lenses could be cut to fit my existing frame. That took around fifteen minutes, so I was left to wait for her to make the necessary tracings.

I sat there, vision not quite perfect, looked around and saw this fellow in the room looking at me. I turned away, but when I looked back he was still looking at me.

He looked older than me and somewhat dishevelled. Then, as I moved in the chair to get a better look, I realised that I was looking at myself in a large mirror. As I scrutinised this ‘stranger’, I was disturbed at first, but then had to contain my laughter. Clearly, I had no idea how I presented myself to others.

With my grey to white hair and age-lined face, I looked much older than I felt. I was slouched in my chair, which I do to relieve the pain from my bad back. My socks were showing and they were not only the wrong colour for the pants I was wearing, mottled orange doesn’t go well with blue jeans, but I cut the tops and then roll down the tops of my socks these days so it relieves the oedema swelling in my legs. They made me look like I was trying to use socks that were too big for me.

My clothes were truly dishevelled—from top to bottom. I looked like I had slept in them.

I was a sight to behold and yet I thought I’d dressed quite properly that morning. Clearly, I wasn’t a model for selling clothes.

To top off the sight of me, parts of my face displayed peeling dead skin, which I never saw in the mirror at home. That was a result of a new gel medication I’m putting on my face to deal with some rosacea.

I couldn’t take it any longer and turned away from the mirror. Who must the young technician think she’s dealing with? She might have been wondering where I was going to get the money to pay for my glasses.

I rested my head on my hand as I leaned on the armrest of the chair and pondered the sight I presented to the world that afternoon, then….wait for it…..I fell asleep.

Thankfully, I had a hypnic jerk that made my arm slip off the armrest and woke me up. I don’t know how long I was out, but it wasn’t long, because the technician had not returned, thank goodness. She might have thought I had passed on while waiting for her. When she did return, I’d composed myself somewhat. I sat up properly in the chair and straightened my jacket. I’d also looked back in the mirror and remove as much of the peeling skin from my face as I could see.

I finished what I had to with the technician, paid my fee, and left without daring to look into one of the many mirrors in the office. As I walked to my car I couldn’t help but wonder what tales the staff would be passing around about the old guy in the office.

I hope they were laughing—I was.



Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
May 04, 2022

I had to laugh with you on this one, Jack.


May 02, 2022



May 02, 2022

Thanks for sharing such a personal moment Jack. Your humour reflects a metaphorical honesty that could be overlooked. We become many weathered layers that can be misinterpreted by the viewer. It is our job as artists to refocus their lens...I’m glad you got got new glasses;)



May 19, 2022
Replying to

fabulous Jack.

bottom of page