Since I was little my left eye has been a little lazier than my right, it turns in slightly and it annoys the piss out of me. I’m so self conscious about the damn thing, I feel like I look like a chameleon with crazy wandering eyes all over the effing place. I wear contacts which correct it most of the time, unless I’m drunk or tired, so if I have a couple of drinks there’s no way I’m looking you in the eye. It really makes me sad and I hate all of you with straight eyes.
I decided to get it fixed with surgery a couple of weeks ago. I was so excited with the prospect of having confidence in my gaze, that I completely shut out the conversation with my surgeon about recovery time. Straight eye, that’s all I could think about. All these years, a childhood filled with glorious names given to me and my lazy eye from schoolmates, an adulthood of conversing with cute boys with my head turned to the side so they wouldn’t notice, all washed away with the snip and pull of a couple of muscles. Or so I thought.
I came out of surgery, dazed and confused, and in serious pain with a lovely cream colored patch taped down to half my face. But I knew that under that patch was the eye of my dreams. When I went to remove it two days later it felt like Christmas morning. I stood in the mirror and peeled the medical tape off my eye like I was opening a delicately wrapped box of jewels. But underneath the patch wasn’t the gleaming straight white eye that I imagined. Instead I found an eye that looked, and felt like it just went five rounds in an ultimate fighting match.
I started to get a little freaked out, questioning my decision to do this surgery; did I rush into it, was my eye ever going to be the same, was the pain going to go away, was my eye actually going to fall out of my face and into my cereal?
Days went by and the pain was still dreadful, the eye was still bloody and I was frustrated with the whole thing. I couldn’t really walk around because I couldn’t look left or right with the eye. I couldn’t take pictures which was killing me, I’m so attached to my camera it was starting to depress me to be without it. I couldn’t work out which was making me even more miserable, and I wasn’t seeing the results I was hoping for. I felt like tree stump. I really had to dig deep to calm myself down.
As the eye healed and I dealt with mounds of unpleasantness, I began to long for my old eye back. Who really cared about my little lazy eye anyway! Aren’t flaws endearing?!! Oh my god, am I one step closer to a boob job?! Why did I put myself through this shit?! And then, when I told a couple of friends what I had done and they responded with “Oh, weird, I never noticed”, I thought I might lose it.
Weeks have passed and my eye is still healing, it still hurts, and I can’t put my contacts in for six weeks. But it’s looking good, I’ll be able to get a better idea of how straight it is once the redness and the swelling goes down, but it is looking good. And once I’m all healed, you better believe I’m going to stay up late, drink beer, and look everyone I meet straight in the eyes.

















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