I WAS vain.

That’s the only way I can explain why I willingly let a doctor cut my corneas with a laser: vanity.

Little did I know when I chose Lasik surgery that I would not end up satisfied like the friends and acquaintances who raved about their post-glasses existence. Instead, my days are complicated, since I am dealing with side effects that are far more bothersome than being unfashionably four-eyed.

I had been wearing eyeglasses since I was 8, and I was tired of never seeing the stars without glare, of not being able to go rock-climbing unless I secured my glasses. Not to mention the horn-rimmed barrier between me and a date.

I had trouble figuring out which side of a contact lens to stick onto my eye, so I never really gave contacts a chance.