I felt two flashes of annoyance and concern, then the thunderclap of an epiphany: I was reading my texts without glasses! In a dark car! I could see the whole palette of emojis, right down to the stripes on the zebra and the holes in the Swiss cheese.
It wasn’t exactly the moment the Velvet Bunny realizes he’s real, but it was momentous nonetheless.
That night, in the bright warmth of our dining room, I realized my texts were blurry again. I knew the drops could wear off in a few hours and you could only use them once a day. But I was still holding my phone, then a book, at arm’s length, exacerbating my double chin, not wanting to give in to the glasses. I felt like Charlie in “Flowers for Algernon”, slowly returning to my old self.
To make matters worse, the whites of my eyes had a pink tint. Imagine Campbell’s Tomato Soup when you add an extra can of milk. My 20-year-old daughter assured me that I didn’t look tall: “But your bags under your eyes are bigger than usual,” she said.
The next morning, I put the drops on as soon as I woke up. This time I waited the recommended 10 minutes before inserting my contacts. I hadn’t been able to read the microscopic instructions on the first lap, so I missed that detail. For someone as short-sighted as me (my lens prescription is -9.50 in each eye), with a pair of regular outdated glasses, the extra time would have been worth it if Vuity had worked as promised. This was not the case.
Not only did my eyes retain their bloodshot cast for the five days I used the drops, but my near vision never improved enough to make reading glasses superfluous. The drops also burned as they penetrated. I’m not talking about some kind of acid pain, more like a lash in the eye, but still unpleasant.
Vuity came in handy when I ran through Fig a few hours after taking a dose. I could pause in a corner, glance at my phone, and make sense of what I was seeing without reaching into my pocket for a pair of glasses that would fog up the instant they touched my skin.