Debbie, a high school classmate, had a prominent nose. She was a slight girl, which made her nose even more pronounced. She was very smart, as I remember, but I think she was extremely self-conscious. She’d walk around with her loose-leaf books and notes held up close to her face, as if she wanted to hide her nose. She was quiet. People made fun of her. We weren’t close friends, but I liked her.
When we returned from Christmas vacation during our sophomore year, Debbie was a new person, literally and figuratively. She had a nose job and she looked beautiful, really beautiful. She no longer held her books up high. She also became a snob. I guess you could say she “held her nose in the air.” She probably resented all the kids who had derided her. I liked her better with her old nose.
I think Debbie went to one of the Seven Sister schools. I lost track of her after we graduated.
My mother, May, had a prominent nose. She was fond of telling us that when she was about twenty, her mother (grandma Rose) gave her a choice: Have a nose job or a get a fur coat. Mom didn’t hesitate. She chose the fur coat.
Mamma May was not the least bit self-conscious about her looks. She was outgoing and secure. Even when she was 86, she would brag about getting kisses from the security guards at the Y, where she attended a Sixty Plus program. I don’t believe a nose job would have changed her one iota. She met a handsome man, my dad, who loved every bit of her and she led a happy, content life.
Moral of the Stories
I am not against nose jobs, or any other types of cosmetic work. To each her own, I say. My big question is, does changing our looks on the outside change how we feel about ourselves on the inside? I don’t think so. When I was 41, I lost 50 pounds and couldn’t stop buying new size 8 clothes. I pranced around like a peacock, but guess what, thinner Geri didn’t mean happier Geri. I’m heavier now, but worlds happier. I wouldn’t mind losing 20 pounds, but I’ll take being “lighter” on the inside any day.