Glasses by Ishika

Glasses by Ishika - October 2013 Scholarship Essay

“GLASSES ARE AN EXTENSION OF YOUR PERSONALITY! NOT ONLY DO THEY IMPROVE VISION, THEY IMPROVE CONFIDENCE!,” they yelled at me through the TV as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Never mind that the “they” aforementioned were profit-seeking individuals who would say that the sky is green if it increased sales. To the social awkward, especially the overexcited-by-TV-commercials, barely-capable-of-speaking-English, whose-best-friend-is-the-monkey-bars, seven-year-old kind of social awkward, glasses seem practically heaven-sent.
Yes, I considered the monkey bars my best friends. People gave me empty stares when I spoke to them with my broken English and exaggerated hand gestures (the monkey bars may have stared too if they had eyes, but that’s irrelevant). Every day at recess, I swung and climbed my way to the top of the monkey bars, watching the others play and longing for a real friend. Hopeless wouldn’t even begin to describe my condition. Enter confident-sounding spokesperson with super-cool glasses. Although I couldn’t understand what he said, the before and after pictures depicting the transformation of a loner to a laughing socialite “said” it all to me. At that moment, I needed glasses. There was just a tiny problem. My eyes didn’t need them.
With a little planning and manipulation, I was sure I could convince my parents that my eyes did, in fact, need glasses. “Hey dad, want to know what time it is? I can tell you!,” I’d yell, then squint and purposely read the clock wrong. “Mom, want me to help you cook?,” I’d say, with the façade of a helpful daughter. Then I’d put in the wrong ingredient, “misreading” the container. Whenever my parents were around, I began reading with my books pressed up to my face and watched TV sitting merely a few feet in front of it. Soon, my parents insisted that I see the eye doctor. Success! On my first visit to the eye doctor, I knew my alphabet well enough to read out the letters that I saw on the “big E screen” but to get my glasses, I read them all wrong, trying to make my responses believable. Vs became Us or Ys, Gs became Qs or Os, and Ss 5s (I didn’t realize that no numbers were on the sheet until later). As the optometrist signed my prescription, my heart raced in excitement. The world wouldn’t know what hit them.
In reality, I couldn’t even comprehend what hit me. I’d love to say it all went swimmingly from there, but I’ve learned my lesson on lying. Somewhere in the midst of “going blind”, I had become blind to the future consequences of my actions. Somehow, my plan had backfired; my vision quickly deteriorated and by third grade I actually couldn’t see without the offensive piece of wire and was forced to wear it regularly. “The nerdy brown girl with the glasses” quickly became my identifier. Whereas other people are characterized by their physical attributes or personality, I was characterized by my “lack of vision”, a quality I forged!
As a first grader, I didn’t understand the value of vision and readily threw it away. Yet, by doing so I’ve gained a new kind of vision which allows me to finally see myself. While others may label me as a nerd, their opinions won’t affect me, not again. Throughout the years I’ve broken through the confines of my degrading peers to find my own identity and make true friends on my own merits. Maybe the spokesperson was right about the whole with-glasses-come-confidence thing.