fakestudio

Memoir 2: Fake: No More Glasses

It’s hot and stuffy in this small room. Did we really have to come here today? My mom gives me a look. Of course we did. Today was the day I learned whether I would still need to wear my glasses. See, I had been diagnosed with nearsightedness at the beginning of the seventh grade, but my eyesight seemed to have gotten better which is why my mom insisted that we check with the ophthalmologist first before getting rid of them.

Dr. L enters the room. He smiles as he asks me how I am. I reply that I am fine. “What seems to be the problem?” Dr. L smiles at me and asks. I look at my mom, expecting her to answer for me. “The glasses you gave her about 7 months ago,” my mom says. “She can see distance without using them now.”

“Well,” Dr. L crosses his fingers. “We should test you and see if you’re really ready to let these go.” I shrug “Okay.” But wait. I am not ready for a test. What if I fail? What if I have to wear these awful glasses for the rest of my life? These thoughts run through my head as Dr. L leads me out of his office to the waiting room, where the eye chart with the letters is.

I sit down in the chair about twenty feet away from the chart. I know what to do, so I put one hand over my left eye and read the letters. I do the same for my right eye, covering my left eye and reading. Dr. L was writing in a notepad as I read out the letters. “Hmmm,” is all he says as I head back into his office where my mother waits. “Well,” he looks up from the notepad. “Looks like your eyesight has improved. Congratulations, you will not need these glasses anymore.”

He reaches out his hand to take the glasses (now in their case) from me. “Actually,” I hold the case to my chest. “Can I keep these?” My mom gives me an eye. “Why?” I shrug. “Memories, I guess. I want to remember when I wore glasses.” Nobody argues.

 

Memoir 1: Fake: FIT Acceptance Letter

My fingers shake.

The white envelope trembles in my hand.

My heart is pounding and I am having trouble breathing.

“Open it!” my friends yell. “I can’t!” I yell back.

Johnny takes the envelope from me.

He carefully tears it open.

I watch, forcing myself to breathe normally.

I see the blue letters.

My eyes widen.

I scream. I put my hands on top of my head.

“I GOT INTO THE FASHION INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY!”

I jump up and down.

My friends squeeze me into a giant group hug.

“YOU GOT INTO THE FASHION INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY!”

They release me and I start to cry.

 “I GOT INTO FIT!”

“Congratulations!”

“Congrats!”

“Oh wow! Henri, you’re going to be great!”

I smile and say thanks.

I can’t wait to tell my parents