We waited in silence as the doctor, having finished his examination, scribbled notes in my 10-year-old daughter's chart. Finally he turned slowly to face her and, leaning directly at her, he said 'I think you're going to like wearing glasses, Miriam.'

She stared at him in disbelief. Tears filled her eyes. She was about to be changed forever, and she was not prepared for it. This is a kid who prides herself on being 100% natural. She expects it of everyone else, too. Watching me put on makeup before an evening out, she would casually remark: 'I don't know why you bother with that. It's not like you look any different with makeup on.'

Yessiree, that's my Miriam. No artificial anything... until now. 'I might as well run away' she said as we stepped out of the elevator. 'You can get me glasses, but I won't wear them.'

She was sobbing. 'Pull yourself together!' I said. 'People are going to think you're dying. I don't know why you're so upset. It's only glasses.'

I do know why she was upset. It wasn't about how wearing glasses at all. It was about 'labels'. How we look label us. Clothing, accessories, glases tell us things about people, or at least we think they do. We look for these surface characteristics to categorize people neatly, if not accurately, even in the fifth grade and een at a school where a black-watch plaid uniform is fashion dictate.

I understood how she felt because even as an adult I believe I am often labeled by the way I look, where I live, even the car I drive.

What is so ironic about labeling is how some people will dress a cetain way, drive a particular car and go to other extremes to have a label bestowed on them. They believe the right label says 'I'm successful' or 'I'm in'. And the wrong label is to be avoided.

A hearing aid bestows the label 'age' on its wearer. My father, who at age 72 is anything but old, bucked wearing a hearing aid until he had to admit he couldn't hear conversations without it. Now the only time I see him without it is when all of my sisters are in town.

Countless books and articles have been written on how important appearance is when interviewing for a job. They give advice on what colors to wear and which ones to avoid. They tell you how to wear your hair, how much makeup is acceptable, right down to the last detail.

Why? Because the decision hot to hire an individual often is made within the first two minutes of the interview. We look at people and instantly, albeit stupidly, label them, yet we know next to nothing about them.

Labels are even worse for children. Carelessly applied, negative labels almost always leave a scar of some kind.

Some labels are worse than others. A nerd is not a pleasant label to wear, but it doesn't cause the damage that being called stupid or a failure does.

These labels are incapacitating. I know people in middle life who are still struggling to shed labels that have branded them since childhood. If a child is stuck wearing a label that says 'I am stupid' or 'I am uncontrollable' for his entire childhood, he is treated as if he is stupid or uncontrollable until he slowly begins to acquire characteristics of that label. The self-fulfilling prophecy becomes true.

'Kids are going to laugh at me' Miriam whimpered. Glasses, my grade school daughter said, would label her a nerd. It was time to have a heart-to-heart talk with her.

'You're right, Honey. There's no sense in trying to act like glasses don't do anything to a person. I've worn glasses since second grade, and I know: a kid who wears glasses is different. Wearing glasses turns you into a nerd. You put on glasses and immediately develop an uncanny math ability. Computers become a favorite subject, and I can't even talk to you anymore because I have to look up every other word you say.'

I glanced at her while waiting for the light to change. She was watching me, not sure if I was serious or not.

I continued to hammer my point home. 'And it doesn't stop there. Athletic ability. Do you have any idea what glasses can do to that? Forget tennis. Better stick to chess. Here's the library. Did you want me to pull over?'

'That's not true, Mom', she responded. 'I'm not going to be any different because I wear glasses. Kids will just have to get used to me looking different.' She had pulled on a pair of sunglasses I keep in the car and was checking her look in the rear-view mirror. 'How do you look?'

'Like the sweet, smart girl that you are' I said. I was going to add sensible, too, but why push my luck?

Anyway, Miriam has her glasses now, ad they fit her personality like a glove. They're wire rims with little splatter of paint on the sides, and she looks like she has worn them all her life. She's still the same kid and she has the same friends, but for some reason, I'm expecting to see a quantum leap in her math grades this quarter.