These are the lenses from which I viewed the world in junior high school. I could have landed a plane with these (and looked like I was trying to). They certainly lent to my understanding of myself as bookish (read nerdy).
Other than a few years in college and in LA when I wore contacts, I've been a wearer of glasses. And though I could likely get my eyes fixed by surgery now, there is something about the way that glasses frame the world that I prefer. Maybe it's the storyteller in me that appreciates looking through a lens. Maybe I feel safer somehow behind glasses.
When we recently shot our documentary short film project in Chicago and San Diego, the director wanted a private video with me discussing vulnerability. They set me up with a dark background and placed a halo of light around my face as I spoke into the camera. To avoid the glare of the light they asked me to do the interview without my glasses. It might be the most vulnerable I've felt in a long time.
"Will people recognize me?" I asked, feeling silly as soon as the words came out of my mouth. That is the strength of identity and I identify myself as a glasses wearer.
I've reflected on that moment frequently because I'm in the "identity" business. I work with people who are renegotiating their identity in the world to tell a new and more powerful story. I'm fascinated by identity. And like everyone, I'm consumed by it until someone asks me to take off my glasses and I'm reminded that I'm still me without them.