These first few days of school have been almost perfect. Not in that 'skipping through fields of wildflowers with all my new-found soul mates and a copy of Waiting for Godot in my back pocket' kind of way (for one thing, I don't really ever have pockets), but more in the sense that I kind of have a feeling as to where this is going, because there has been a bit of everything already. I've met some lovely people, at least one of whom I'm sure I'll make great friends with, but also some of those who remind me why I need to toughen up a bit and not be so bloody nice all the time. Which is a shame, I suppose, but I'm coming more and more to terms with it: Some people just aren't worth the energy.

This thought was hopping about in the back of my head when I was picking out frames for my new reading glasses the other day. Yes, that's right, I am not the genetic 20/20-visioned miracle I thought I was after all. Personally, I don't consider this to be a disaster, because ever since my mum got her new frames a few years back I've actually kind of wanted glasses. I mean, they suit me, and I'm a sucker for anything that can so completely transform my look with little effort, like lipstick, or a nice hat. Anyway, the first frames my optician suggested fitted me perfectly: they were a gorgeous colour, the perfect shape and made me feel like a princess with a tiny Chanel camelia detail on each side. Unfortunately, that was exactly what was wrong with them. That whole 'sweet, fragile' thing is so very last season, dahling. My single New Year's resolution this year is to gather all the threads of my tattered self-confidence, and try to stitch it back up into a person I actually like being. And that is going to take more than just a camelia.

It took me a week but I finally found them, and they're so stylish it hurts.

Moreover, these will help prevent shortsightedness in the future.

Which is just too ironic.