Should I be a little bit worried about myself?

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In the murky light of dawn this morning I fumbled about beside the bed for my glasses, found them eventually and put them on. I stumbled into the bathroom then on into the kitchen (after washing my hands - I’m not totally uncouth) and started the coffee making process for my wife to complete. But things weren’t quite right, the world looked a bit wonky but I put it down to my befuddled post-sleep, pre-caffein stupor. My wife emerged from somewhere, looked at me and laughed: I was wearing her 91 year old aunt’s glasses instead of my own. Does this make me a transvestite? I don’t know how they ended up at my side of our bed.