Dial M for Mortification

An eye doc once told me I was legally blind, and I'll take his word for it. Fortunately, modern science has allowed me a normal life of sight thanks to high prescription contact lenses! That said, it's always been vital that I have my eyes checked once a year, and those check-ups often include something I don't enjoy: DILATION.

Eye dilation, as defined by this Illustration major with no medical background, is when they put stingy drops in your eyes and your pupils enlarge as if you're in a dark room. This allows the eye doctor to thoroughly check for any problems. This also allows for even the tiniest bit of light to make you feel as though you're staring into the center of a solar eclipse...

Now let's talk about my mom's old car (I promise it's relevant). It was an '86 cornflower blue Volvo with no air conditioning. The only two things it had going for it were A. I was allowed to drive it free of charge and B. It had a working radio. Well, "B" soon became obsolete when the radio antenna was snapped off in a freak carwash accident. But at least I could still drive it...

Several years passed, and my mom began moving up in the world. She felt that the time had come to treat herself to a new [used] car, and she began a thorough search that involved lots of phone calls and frequent test drives. When she would discuss makes and models with me, I would offer up my one and only requirement: that it have a radio. It became a joke between us: "Does it have a radio?" It's amazing how one day a joke can turn into pretty much your most embarrassing moment ever...

One summer Saturday while I was home from college, my mom sweetly volunteered to take me to my annual eye exam. After the doctor dilated my eyes, I once again remembered what I forgot before every visit: how uncomfortable it was! My contacts weren't in, so I was wearing my coke bottles and had forgotten any form of sun protection.

When we got out to the car, the discomfort from the light was unbearable. My mom rummaged through the trunk and offered me the only help she could find, my little brother's foam little league hat that was two sizes too small and had a giant "Y" (for Yankees!) on it. I could not have cared less. I put the awkward thing onto my disheveled head and dealt with the remaining sunlight by doing this eye-squint head-bob combination that apparently eased the pain. And then my mom asked if we could go look at cars.

Now, the LAST place you should go after getting your eyes dilated is a car lot on a sunny day. There is literally light bouncing off of EVERY surface in EVERY direction. But I did not realize this until we got there.

A cute salesman in his mid-twenties greeted us and began to talk details with my mom. I noticed that he smiled in my direction, yet avoided making eye contact with me. I did not think much of it. I hung by each car we looked at, boy's little league hat atop my head, giant glasses sliding down my nose each time I squinted and bobbed. I decided an inside joke could only make the situation better, so I interrupted my mom with:

"Hey Mom! Hey Mom! Does it have a radio??"

The salesman nearly knocked my mom to the side as he ran over to me and opened the passenger side door.

"YEEESSS! It DOES have a radio! Would YOU like to hear it?"

His sudden burst of enthusiasm confused me. "Um... sure?" I replied, and slid into the passenger seat. The salesman turned on some random mariachi station and smiled a little too largely.

"Can we check out that one over there?" my mom asked, her nose in some pamphlet. She began to head over to the next vehicle, and the salesman ran to her side. He leaned over and said:

"Uh... is... is she okay in there by herself?"

My mom looked at him blankly for a moment as she wondered why he would be concerned about a twenty-year-old girl sitting in a car ten feet away. And then it hit her. The squinting. The head bobbing. The obsession with radios. She realized what the salesman was thinking and put it into less-than-tactful words.

"What? NO!! My daughter's not retarded!"

I sprang from the car, also realizing the confusion. I poured out my life story, and the circumstances that led to me looking and acting this way. Mortification does not begin to describe it. Of course, in the big picture, there's nothing wrong with being mentally challenged... but a young girl who's NOT mentally challenged (depending on who you ask) still doesn't want people thinking she is!

We politely left the car lot and my mother eventually found the car of her dreams: a '92 Beamer. And, yes, it had a radio.

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