Four eyes are better than one.

Then, how about six?

When I had my eye exam two years ago, the technician-child declared my eyes were fine but predicted I would need bifocals the next time around.

Listen, punk, I wanted to say. I'm only 50. That doesn't make me old.

Except, maybe it does. Two years later, I got a prescription for progressive lenses.

I just got my first pair from Costco, yesterday. While Seattle boasts the highest per capita ownership of sunglasses, it's doubtful that I will have much need for them until that one week in August when the sun comes out. Nevertheless, I wore them in the car on the way home and thought it was pretty cool to be able to see out the windshield while simultaneously texting. (Settle down, I wasn't driving.)

The other pair - my regular glasses - I got from an optical shop. I was led there by some advice to get good glasses. Meaning, glasses from Costco are cheap.

No, glasses from Costco are inexpensive, I wanted to say. I was well aware that glasses elsewhere could cost $600 which seemed inconceivable when I knew I could get frames, lenses, and all the coatings, yada yada, from Costco for about $200.

You get what you pay for, the optical shop told me.

What, exactly, is that?

The optical shop gave me a vague answer. A computer makes the lenses.

When I went to pick up my sunglasses, I asked the Costco guy, Zak, the same question and I got a lot more information, none of which I can remember, exactly, but it was, like, a lot. And, it seemed, more informational. He told me about the lenses, how they're made, and how the Costco model allows them to sell them for less.

Well, mea cupla, then. I had already purchased a pair from the optical shop. And I've been sweating ever since that I won't like them.

This whole debacle came about when, about a week ago, I stood at the Costco counter wearing frames I intended to buy and the sales woman asked, Would you like my opinion?

The answer should have been No. But, no, it wasn't. Without hesitation, I dove headfirst into the rabbit hole. I proceeded to take selfies whilst wearing different frames and solicited opinions from around the globe. Which is when someone said, Get good glasses.

I went through the whole selfie/text/solicitation of opinion routine again at the optical store until, finally, and just before I was ready to give up on the whole thing and abandon any hope of corrective eye wear ever, we had a winner. And all I can think is, I made a terrible mistake.

So, when you see me at Christmas, just lie. Tell me you love them. Because, otherwise, I'm going to Costco and I'm buying whatever I want and I won't care one tiny bit what you think. Which, is what I should have done in the first place.