File this under: Things I worry about often that are probably less important than war or oil spills.

In fourth grade, the school nurse sent a note home to my parents stating that she saw me squinting in the library, and that maybe an appointment with an ophthalmologist would be in order.

I discreetly read it in the backseat on the way home from school, and assuming the word squinting meant squatting, and having just re-read the book Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, I was entirely certain that I had squatted in the library, forgetting that I had a skirt on, showed everyone my underwear, possibly my Jesus flower, and this ophthalmologist person was the doctor in charge of either removing it, sewing it shut, or making it so I was never allowed to have babies or grow boobs.

I never gave the note to my parents.

The next day, I went to school wearing navy uniform slacks, and before lunch, I ducked into the nurses office and was like, Sister Bethany, my parents read the note, and they were so disappointed in me, and I am probably grounded for a very long time.  I swear I will never wear skirts again, and if I do, I will wear three pairs of underwear and carry a rosary in my pocket, because my parents don’t spend all this money on my religious education so that I can squint with my knees open and show strangers my privates in the non-fiction aisle of the library.

She just sat there, staring at me with the weirdest look on her face, and in my head, I am like, this is really going well, but then she asks me for my home phone number and I am like, holy shit, this was the worst evil scheme ever.

I thought about lying and saying that my mom was away or too sick to talk on the phone, but what was the point?

I was probably already going to spend a million years in purgatory for encouraging mind intercourse, I just lied to a nun, I was probably failing math, I watched my girl hamster eat her newborn baby hamsters, and even though I threw up twice, I was totally fascinated.

I’m basically a horseman of the apocalypse.

So, my mom came in, and we had a meeting with the nurse and the principal, the first portion of it dealing with the fact that I lied about giving my mom the note.

The second, explaining that squinting had nothing to do with squatting, and everything to do with my eyes and their inability to work properly.

And, the last part, mainly dealing with the fact that I had no idea what an ophthalmologist was, health and science were clearly my weak points, and maybe I should focus more on listening to the teacher, and less on wondering why there are no dinosaurs pictures or big bang theories.

A week later, I had oversized pink plastic glasses.

They hurt my ears and slipped down my nose, and I swore, right then and there, that in order to give my future children a fighting chance, I would only marry a man with 20/20 vision.

But, then I got contacts and discovered kissing, and that suddenly became less important to me.

Until now, and Andy with his not 20/20 vision, and his whole, well if the kids need glasses, it’s no big deal jargon.   And I am like, it is a big deal Andy, having glasses when you are little is tough, trust me, and he is like, lots of little kids have glasses now, that kid on Jerry Maguire did and he was famous.  And I was like, seriously?  The annoying kid from Jerry Maguire?  I’m pretty sure he does acne commercials now, I want more for our kids than that, and he is all, I’m just saying, lots of famous children wear glasses, it’s a cool thing these days.

Right, Andy.  Real cool.  Harry Potter wore glasses and look what happened to him.  He was half dark lord, had a huge facial scar, killed the vampire guy from Twilight, and ended up on Broadway doing full frontal nudity next to horses.

Only two of those things sound awesome.