When I was nine years old, some genius doctor thought wearing an eye patch would correct my wretched eyesight.

I remember the horror that overwhelmed me when I learned that I would have to stick a big, circular flesh-colored band aid on my eye and actually GO TO SCHOOL looking like that. It’s a lot for a nine-year-old to process. But it wasn’t that bad, I guess, looking back. I was only teased ruthlessly, causing me to throw my body to the ground, crying and flailing about, and THAT sure made the teasing better.

My mom used to put the patch on m eye every morning and I would cry like a dog in heat with no neighborhood pimps to bone. All the stickiness would wear off but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to wear the patch. Oh no! We had an endless supply of the little buggers. My mom used to try to make my "pirate look" better by putting stickers on the patch. That made me look even stupider…like I had a little pink sheep in lieu of an eyeball. My dad suggested on more than one occasion that I just get a black eye patch with the elastic band that wraps around your head. You know, like the kind that come with “Arrgh Matey” costumes at Halloween. He wasn’t even kidding.

I recently learned how hard it was for my parents to put me through this. I feel bad now that I gave them so much hell and, while telling a co-worker about it today, I nearly started crying – not because of the trauma (oh the trauma!) but because of what my parents must have gone through. Can having kids possibly be worth it?

Ah, but I failed to mention… The bloody eye patch did NOTHING to improve my vision. I went from joyful at the prospect of not having to wear the thing to pissed off beyond any comprehension in two flat third grader seconds. I was seething with anger, steam puffing from my nose and blood spouting from my ears. Then we went out to eat at a terrible restaurant that I’ll never forget (and which my dad will never let me forget). In fact, this eye patch experience was the last time I had been to downtown Minneapolis since, you know, moving here.

No wonder why I stayed away from this place. (I hope that was the point of this post because, if it wasn't, I don't know what the hell it was.)