Nose Goes

I was 17 when I had a nose job. I’m not really sure how or why the odds were not in my favor, but growing up my nose started to “develop” and never really stopped. I’m half Italian and have been told that not only did my maternal grandmother have a “nose” but apparently so did my paternal great grandfather. I guess was lucky enough to inherit all the unfavorable genes with my nose being the most unfortunate of them all.

Thinking back, I’m not sure that I can pinpoint when I started to dislike my nose. I very much do remember one of my cousins calling me “big nose fatty” though, while growing up. I also remember sitting in class my sophomore year of high school with my hands placed over my face, trying to discreetly block my side profile from others, while I glanced around the room at everyone else’s small, beautiful noses. Why did I have to be the only one with a big nose? Looking around at everyone in the school, there was really maybe only a handful of people that had anything notable to mention about their faces, with my nose being in the top running.

I remember crying about my nose. I also remember becoming obsessed with wanting a smaller nose. So much so, that I basically decided to put together a PowerPoint presentation on why my parents should get me a nose job. At first, that was laughed off; however, I soon made it very clear to my parents how seriously sad I was. The sadder I was, the more evident it became to my parents that they should hear me out. My parents are also wonderful, so after many tears were shed, I was able to compromise with my parents and they agreed that if I found some plastic surgeons myself, they’d take me to some appointments to learn more information.

Immediately I did my research and found 3 viable doctor options that were semi- local to the area. We made appointments and started with the first doctor. This doctor was an older man who sat me in a chair, gave me a hand mirror to look at my reflection, and then pointed out all the imperfections from the neck up. He did this because apparently a lot of clients got nose jobs and were dissatisfied with their appearance now noticing all the others minor imperfections that were previously overlooked. …. Need I say anything else? This was not the man for me.

The next doctor we went to was far less of a horror show. This man met with us and took my picture from the front/ side angles and immediately uploaded it onto his computer and started virtually walking us through all the ideas he had for how to best reshape my nose while essentially designing it on the computer to visualize. Super impressive, but we still had another doctor to visit.

The last doctor was a character. I’m pretty sure I got his name from a fellow friend that had already had a nose job (note to self- that person’s nose job isn’t that good). I walked into the main lobby and thought I entered some wealthy, fancier person’s living room. The lobby was full of upholstered furniture, a massive self portrait of the doctor, and the individual room I was seated in had a gold curtain. Need I say much more? After a fairly long wait, the doctor came in, grabbed my nose and wiggled it around in a bunch of directions, and basically said “I can do it” before walking out. Wow.

As I’m sure you can guess, we went with doctor number two. I got scheduled for the end of June so I had all summer to heal. This was at the conclusion of my junior year, as I was not afraid to enter my senior year with a “new look”. I wanted all the jerks who ever bullied or made fun of me to see my new nose. I wasn’t ashamed… if anything, they should be.

The day of my surgery, my mom took me to the hospital. When we got to valet parking, I got out first and was waiting for my mom to grab her things from the back. As I’m standing there waiting, I noticed the car started rolling forward. Of course I shrieked to my mother on the other side of the car while stepping in front of the moving vehicle (as if I was going to be able to push it backwards). I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen my mom move so quickly, but she jumped in the front and whipped her car into park as swift as could be. What a solid start to the day!

I don’t remember very much about the surgery itself. My mom took one last perfectly horrific picture of my nose before the operation. I counted down from ten and before I made it to one, the anesthesia kicked in and I was out. The next thing I recall was waking up feeling extremely nauseous and informing the nurse I thought I might be sick. It was a rough few hours of recovery, as my body typically doesn’t respond well to anesthesia overall.

That day my nose died. It happened to be the same day Farrah Faucet and Michael Jackson died. I always found it symbolic that MJ passed that day, knowing how notoriously bizarre his nose was.

Anyway, I’ve loved my nose for 10+ years, but I’m starting to get paranoid in my later years. I feel like my nose is changing a little, and I unfortunately feel like it’s changing in a negative way. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse or angle that just doesn’t look right to me, and I get almost the same type of anxiety that I used to have about my old nose. Having something that’s dead smack in the center of your face be large, unusually shaped, or “different” is a real struggle. After all, this is not something you can hide or without a literal mask or bag over your head! Here’s to hoping it’s more so my imagination and anxiety than anything else.

Do you know any one that has had rhinoplasty surgery? Is there anything on your body that you’ve been extremely self conscious about?