I’ve taken some time off to do a lot of self reflecting this past week.

If you believed that, I have a money tree out back and some unicorns I’d like to sell you.

I spent most of my time shoving tissues up my nose, yelling at the dogs to stop eating the snotty used tissues and watching season one of Heroes.

Whenever the odd personal revelation would pop into my brain I’d chase it away with a steaming cup of NeoCitran. Nothing like over the counter cold medication to chase away the demons and let the sunshine in. Who needs therapy and antidepressants?*

*Just kidding Doc, if you are reading this.

One morning last week I reached for yet another tissue to staunch the flow of mucous seeping from my sinuses and stealing away my will to live only to discover the box was empty.

So with a Herculean effort, I pulled my jiggly arse cheeks off the couch, wiped my nose on my sleeve (puh-leez, like YOU have never done that) and moseyed into the bathroom in search of disposable paper products to shove up my nostrils.

As I tore apart my bathroom vanity, I realized several things.

1.) I have never finished a tube of sunscreen before opening another and therefore have at least a bakers dozen of half used sunscreen products shoved into several drawers.

2.) I seem to have developed quite the collection of toothbrushes, all in their original packaging. I could pretend I keep buying them for all the unexpected overnight guests we never have or I could just chalk it up to absentmindedness.

3.) There wasn’t a damn box of tissues to be found all though I did discover an expired package of condoms, an opened jar of leg wax I forgot I had and a wig I bought on a lark days after Shalebug died.

4.) I not only collect shiny new tooth brushes, but I seem to be addicted to buying spectacles.

Sitting on my bathroom floor surrounded by an assortment of lube products, toothbrushes and lotion bottles, I wiped my nose (with a face cloth, not my sleeve. I’m not an animal dammit.) and counted how many pairs of glasses I have purchased in the last two years.

I started to calculate how much money I had tossed toward my myopic astigmatic eyeballs but my head started to swim when I realized if my husband ever decided to use a Chinese water torture treatment to extract definite figures of my spending habits I’d be better off pleading ignorance honestly than cracking under the pressure and admitting my monetary shame.

Some girls love makeup, others have a weakness for manicures and some enjoy owning a closet full of shoes.  Me? I have a thing for frames.

I blame my parents for this. If they hadn’t saddled me with some real ego-busters back when I first started wearing glasses I may not be obsessed with buying all the pairs of cute glasses I happen to stumble on as an adult.

(There is not enough liquor or drugs to block out the memory of those clear plastic frames I wore until they shattered during a particularly cold winter’s morning on the way to school or the giant, cover my entire face, over sized green frames I chose when I had a fever and mononucleosis.)

I wear contact lenses too, but I prefer glasses. I don’t wear jewelery. I wear glasses.

I also played Dungeons and Dragons in high school and have a rudimentary understanding of the language of Klingon. Don’t judge me.

Since I had to actually comb my hair for work purposes yesterday, I decided I’d show you what I’ve been spending my husband’s money on in the last 24 months.

Consider this the first step to overcoming my addiction. Or just a really lame way out of avoiding my inner demons and escaping from posting any real content.

Whoot! Two birds with one stone!!

Feel free to make fun of me any time. You’ll fit right in with my husband.

This is my “OHHH!” look. You’ll see this on me whenever I cuss in front of Boo’s 92 year old Christian nana or drop an F-bomb in front of my 3 year old nephew who repeats everything I say like the annoying parrot he is. I love these glasses.

This is my “I’m in your Internetz, reading your thoughtz” look. Or, as my husband would say, “Get your damn hair out of your eyes, Tanis,” look. These are my newest specs. I bought them because they are bright blue on the inside and on the arms.

Ah, the sexy librarian look, or in this case, “I’m sweating so much my hair is actually dripping” look. It’s hot. This pair of glasses were the pair that set off my spending spree. I blame Drew Carey.

This picture is how I look most days. Proof that I either have a severe facial tic that needs medical attention or I have absolutely no sense of shame and can openly mock myself. You decide. I stole these glasses off a homeless person hitch hiking down the highway. I’m such a badass that way.

Here I either bit my tongue, am sucking on a sour candy or am trying to imitate Betty Boop. I forget. Either way, I’m wearing my the glasses I seem to wear the most.

So ya. Six Five (one pair had a missing nose piece that felt like it was trying to gouge a third nostril whenever I put them on so no pics of those babies) pairs of glasses in two years.

Funny, I spend all day peering through the looking glass and yet I still feel like I’m falling down the rabbit hole most days.