June 20
 

 
 
 

I bought these sunglasses last night.  They were not cheap, so don't go writing to me telling me how I look like some bug-eyed alien refugee from the 80's because the important thing is how something makes you feel, right?  The important thing is that when you put something on, or let's go even deeper, when you're with someone or hear a song or something like that, when you have this thing or person or whatever--that makes you feel happy and good about yourself, that's something you want around, right?  That even though sometimes things cost you more than you'd want, more than you'd planned on spending, sometimes it opens you up more than you'd wanted, you have to do it, because you just have to.

That was the case with these glasses.  I found them in Lenscrafters after trying on several thousand pair of your standard black wraparound plastic Generic Sunglasses.  They were sitting on top of the counter, alone.  Bright red.  Huge.  Shiny.  I tried them on, ignoring the little voice in my head.  The little voice that said "Dana.  You might not look how you think you look".   That little voice was completely drowned out by the OTHER voice screaming "THE ONLY THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE THESE FUCKERS COOLER WOULD BE RHINESTONES!"  But, they were expensive, they were red.  They were utterly, completely me.  Or, the me as I see myself. You know what I mean? There's YOU.  The suit.  The day in day out person in the chinos and timberland shoes.  There's the you in the panty hose and sensible pumps who changes at the end of the day into some beer swilling steel toed Doc Martin wearing tattoo all over your back 'Don't look at me the wrong way because I will rip your world apart'  animal.

So there's me, the me that I am, the me that buys boring black sunglasses, and then the me that loses my shit over fake-diamond festooned bracelets at Macy's.  There's me, you know, in brown stink-foot Sketchers, and then the me in the purple brocade pants.  The purple brocade me is the me I want to be full time.  I want to be a me without artifice, a me without blue jeans.  I want to be a full time purple pants wearing hep cat.  The sensible 'what the fuck, you don't want red sunglasses, that's stupid!" me picked out a nice pair of tortoise shell frames and brought them to the counter person to be made.  The counter person said "I can't believe you aren't getting the red ones!"  It all fell apart for me after that.  I did love the red glasses! I did! Money be damned! Fashion be damned! Subtlety be damned! I am Dana! Hear me roar!

After much, much, MUCH debate, much trying on, much internal and external dialogue.  After many assurances that I did not, in fact, look like an extra from an early episode of Miami Vice (Dana, starring as Fawning Rock Groupie #8), I lay my money down, and an hour and a half later, a mere hour and a half later, I got my glasses, and my life changed, just that slightly.   I am the kind of person who buys red sunglasses.  More than that, I am the kind of person who makes me happy  because I got the sunglasses I wanted.    Now, where'd I put that braided headband?
 

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I am fused
Just in case I blow out
I am glued
Just in case I crack out