Health: My Mum tried an impromptu sight test. `Could you read the top line of that chart?' `What chart?'

"The first time I saw my son*, I just wept." Mother, Birmingham.

As a top media doc, I get sent a lot of unsolicited press releases. Most are binned, but occasionally one attracts my bespectacled eye. Today, Lady Luck is shining on Dollond & Aitchison (the opticians Burt Reynolds sold out for) who have launched a Specs Power programme "to break the chain of poor self-image in children who wear glasses". Apparently, parents view children in specs with guilt and shock, and all the children surveyed had been bullied. Cue heart-rending anecdotes from Dr Phil's scarred past ...

I first noticed I had a poor image of other people in biology. I didn't want to sit too close to the front, so I toughed it out with William "Thicky" Hickey at the back. From there, I could make out very little of teacher's anatomy or his anatomical drawings. What little biology I gleaned was from copying Thicky, who can't have been that thick or else I'd never have made it to medical school, would I?

It didn't strike me that not being able to see clearly was anything abnormal, and it wasn't until my Mum tried an impromptu sight test that I was found out. "Could you read the top line of that chart?" "What chart?" Boom, boom, and off we go to the opticians.

"Now we just have to choose some frames. Might I suggest a dark rim to balance the pale eyebrows?" "What do you think Mum?" "I think they're very nice." "You don't think they're a bit - you know - obvious?" "How about a dark top and a clear bottom?" And so I walked out with what looked like a sea slug asleep on my forehead. Not that that was my main concern. The lenses were so strong that the pavement came up to meet me. Still, it was cheaper than cider.

Monday morning at Marlborough Grammar School. Tentative entrance from old boy in new glasses. "Hey, look! It's Joe Ninety!"

Thankfully, it was a full year before we went comprehensive, so I had a bit of time to work on my self-image before the heckling got really personal. Even then, I only wore them in class. How I wish I'd been brave like Rogerson and worn them round the back of the French hut.

Most of my life was spent in a not-too-disagreeable haze. I think Marlborough boasted the widest high street in Britain. I'm not sure how many insurance claims I fathered trying to cross it, but miraculously I was never hit. It was only when my mother crossed me on the pavement and I completely blanked her that she realised I wasn't getting on with my sea slugs. And I've still got the wrinkles from all that squinting.

We agreed that I could have contact lenses as soon as my sight stabilised, but my myopia spiralled downwards before finally stopping at minus 8. At 16, I switched to contacts, my eyebrows got some sunlight and I could kiss with confidence at discos. Praise the Lord.

My love affair with contact lenses lasted until I hitched round Australia at 18. I lost my carrying case and ended up storing them in a sock overnight. I squashed one lens putting the sock on and the other split when a piece of stray coconut hit me in the eye. Somehow, I managed to hitch to Sydney and get on to the plane home with no optical correction. When I got to Heathrow, my Mum met me off the plane. I walked straight past her.

So now I'm back in specs. At 35, I'm confident enough to wear them all the time, can pick out my Mum across a crowded room and only take them off during long consultations when I want to drift off for a few minutes. However, after 15 years in the same frames (my empathic, tortoiseshell ones - see picture), I was finally mistaken for David Mellor. OK, so I was buck naked apart from my Chelsea top, but it destroyed my self-image.

Choosing new frames has been very traumatic, especially since the market has been flooded with elliptical Euro-styles that make you look like an extra from Diva. My local optician was a model of tolerance and allowed me to take frames home to try out. After much deliberation, my Mum and my wife went for the Milky Bar Kid look. I tried to have an opinion but it was all a bit blurry. It may be a while before the Independent photographer cottons on, but the new image is on show every Monday, BBC 2, 8pm. For those who prefer the old one, try Channel 5, every Monday, 10.30pm.

* in glasses.