Anne is pretty much like Martha Stewart.  Or the Pioneer Woman.  Or an alien.  It really doesn’t matter what she is because I’ve already decided that if I ever come into boocoos of money, I’d probably consider hiring her to do things that I’ll never understand.  Things like making scones edible.  Scones you eat instead of throwing against a wall to see what breaks first.  Because, well, I don’t *do* cooking…without a high liklihood for personal injury.  Actually, I don’t really *do* anything that would even put me in the 5th sub-bullet point category of Martha (what is that, anyway? A square? An iiiii?  I have no idea because I’ll never *be* there, anyway).

Apparently, Anne is also super talented at things that require patience, attention to detail and small objects.  Basically?  She should probably consider joining a bomb squad.  Or those people who actually look for needles in haystacks.  I’m sure they exist.  Everything else does.

Anne is over here at ad astra per aspera. Yah. I also suck at foreign languages, so if you’re like me and require the English version: To The Stars Through Difficulty.

Annnnd I’m done here.  The rest?  The rest is Anne.

I have worn contact lenses since I was ten, meaning I’ve stuck something in my eye every day for the last 14 ½ years. Switching to contacts was one of the best decisions of my life, perhaps second only to choosing to marry my husband.

I’m shocked by how stylish children’s frames have become. If we’d had such cool glasses when I was young, I might still be wearing them. However, the very best option at my disposal was a shiny pair of square, purple frames. Yes, purple. It was my favorite color at the time. For a frizzy-haired, “smart girl”, big purple glasses didn’t exactly go a long way toward establishing my “cool” factor. Hence, the switch to contacts at the earliest possible opportunity. It didn’t matter how difficult it was or how much “maturity” the doctor told me daily maintenance required, I was not wearing those glasses any more. Middle school was on the horizon and we all know that survival is dependent on minimizing your targets for ridicule.

Over the years I’ve had the opportunity of witnessing many friends and acquaintances (my own husband included) have their own eyesight begin to fail and adopt glasses. It’s practically a rite of passage. For some reason none of these new glasses-wearers is as eager to adopt contact lenses as I was. They seem to think I possess some personal strength that they lack. I am here to tell you – everyone can do it. I was the sort of girl who could have passed out at the sight of a needle, who turned away when my 3rd grade classmates played the ever-popular turn-your-eyelid-inside-out game. Yet, even I, prissy and squeamish to the max, was able to master the skill.

Prior to the contact fitting, I was informed I had to be able to demonstrate touching my eye or I would not be given contacts. This was a problem, because I most definitely could not touch my eye. I’d spent my short life thus far trying to keep objects (and especially fingers) out of my eye. Summer break gave me lots of time to practice, and when the time came, I could just barely press the corner of my finger to the corner of my eye. After a painfully awkward, eyelash-fluttering fitting, the optometrist finally managed to shove those babies in my squinted eyes and I was given the “okay” to practice at home.

Fast forward through hours of practice and years of experience to today. I consider myself a bit of an eyewearpro, possessing close to two decades of experience with contacts and glasses. Those half-blind friends I mentioned aboveoften ask me to help them pick out frames and as they ponder their leap into corrective lenses, I always lobby for contacts. Everyone likes the idea of being able to see, but their top objection is the whole taking it out/putting them in process. The thing people don’t realize is that there are so many methods. As long as your fingers are reasonably clean, you can inject a bit of style into the process and find something that works for you.

Classic: Two-handed method: one finger holds the top eyelashes still, one finger holds the bottom eyelashes still and the other hand gently pinches the contact out of the eye.

Good for: Newbies, mascara-junkies, renegade eyelashes.

The Pro: One-handed method. This one is for when you’ve trained your eyelids into submission. They hold still on their own and you go to town.

Good for: Daredevils, trained professionals, robots.

Manicurist’s Special: Instead of pinching or rolling the contact, use the pad of a dry finger to suction the contact off your eyeball. Eyeball must be very moist and finger must be very dry for this to work.

Good for: People with long nails, because I guarantee you do not want those scraping against your cornea.

Flexible Thinker: A variation on the first two methods. Use a finger other than your index to do the work. I prefer my middle finger, for its length and size advantage.

Good for: When you have Cheeto powder on your index finger.

Happy Hour: Not recommended, due to potential for injury. Close eyes tight, squeeze, and rub eyes until contacts pop out the sides.

Good for: Drunks.

These are the most common moves I’veemployed during my time, with variations created to meet the needs of particular situations. If you are considering contacts, feel free to givethese maneuvers a try and don’t be afraid to get creative. That’s probably not what your doctor is going to tell you, but you can trust me, I am an eyewear expert.

*Disclaimer- expert status self-proclaimed. I am in no way signing up to be liable for your eyeball adventures. You should follow the advice of an actual professional (i.e. someone who gets paid).