a blog launched to laugh at my own expense

Designer Sunglasses- A Proven Scientific Theory
























                                                   


My first pair of designer sunglasses was a consolation prize when my first boyfriend broke up with me. J, my father, was initially at a loss when it came to how to deal with me and my uncontrollable sputtering sobs. That was until he remembered the Sarah B. Keating cheat code. You see, J has won Keating Family Father of the Year Award for 25 years straight, and he knows that the best way to get his daughters to stop crying is to distract them.

Do you know what Sarah B. Keating’s distractions look like? They look new, shiny, and expensive. Just ask any 4 year girl who is in the middle of throwing a temper tantrum -- I bet the same tricks that J uses on me would work on her.

So there I was, hysterically heaving, because the love of my life didn’t want to date an eighth grader since he was going to be a ninth grader. J, in a last ditch effort to save his cashmere sweater that I was blowing my nose into, quickly said “Here! Sarah! Look!”, and like a 4 year old distracted from her temper tantrum, I looked up to see something new, shiny and expensive.

I perked up instantly and started giggling as J handed me the a pair of Raybans with a motorcycle nose bridge that he had just picked up on his last trip to London. Perfect. Thanks J!!

J, who is always quick to make light of my grievances, instantly dubbed the whole exchange as “Breakup-bans”. He announced that any Keating family child suffering through a breakup qualified for a new pair of sunglasses.





This quickly became my new favorite Keating Family Rule. But like all good things in my life, similar to my eighth grade relationship, it came to a shattering end. After I charged J’s credit card with like the 7th new pair of sunglasses citing a two year old breakup, J informed me that losing each new pair of “Breakup-bans” didn’t count as its own breakup. J put his loafer-ed foot down and told me and he would no longer be funding my addiction to losing sunglasses. He then sent me a link pushing me to purchase velcro sunglass straps for myself.

So what did I do? No, I did not purchase sunglass straps that were marketed for babies who have to wear glasses.  I did what all the women on Bravo’s Real Housewives shows do… I started buying fake sunglasses. My father and my bank account all thanked me.


Every time I traveled to South or Latin America, I would monopolize sunglass rickshaws.  The peddlers would laugh at me and my processed blonde hair and my gringa Spanish as I bought pairs and pairs and pairs of fake sunglasses.

When I got home to the States, I began to discover an unsettling correlation in the pattern of lost sunglasses. I never lost my fake glasses but I always ALWAYS lost my designer glasses. The common denominator in the equation was not who was doing the losing (aka me).... it was always the type of sunglasses that were lost. Obviously I would never blame myself. I am perfect.

But as I continued to scientifically observe myself, I realized that I couldn’t lose a pair of cheapo sunglasses if I tried. Literally, like, I couldn’t break or lose a pair of fake glasses if getting a new pair of designer depended on it. Sunglasses are like fake IDs. The more money you invest in a good one, the faster and more likely you are to lose, break, lend or have them confiscated.

After years of not losing the same pairs of fake sunglasses came an Ah-HA moment! I thought… Maybe I have matured. Maybe losing sunglasses is something I have outgrown. Maybe turning 24 made me super responsible. So... I bought a pair of Persol. I promptly lost them within 72 hours. (Granted, I lost them at Firefly so in hind-sunglass-sight, it could have been the choice of venue at which I tried to debut my new found responsibility.) I am just going to chalk this up as further evidence in favor of my developed scientific theory: You can’t lose sunglasses you don’t care about. You and your bank account are immune to the loss.

So then I decided... Summer 2016: Fake It ‘Til You Break It.


xo
B



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