Dear God, What Is That Thing?
I have never liked my nose.
My parents taught me to be grateful for what I have, so I have always thanked the dear Lord for the ability to breathe and detect smells. And, it holds up my glasses just fine, thank you very much. But aside from that, I have never once truly appreciated the schnoz that sits in the middle of my face.
From the front, it looks like my dad's nose; from the side, it resembles my mom's. All put together, my nose has always had its own issues. Too pointy, too freckly, too crooked, too long. You name it, I could find a complaint about it.
In elementary school, I was fascinated by Annie's nose: short, cute, and just right for her face. I'd have swapped with her in a heartbeat, but I doubt she wanted a proboscis with two different sized nostrils, never mind the fact that her nose probably would not look right on my face. But in 6th grade, having a nose you didn't like was a real problem. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Since that time in my life, I've encountered actual problems, such that my nose really didn't seem to cause me much anguish. I never thought about it on a daily basis again until Melina came along. I think the mini-me has my nose. So far, it looks great on her, but I do wonder if someday, she'll have the same conversations I had to myself
I also wonder if it will take her until she is approaching 39 to look into the mirror and accept herself for who she is. Better late than never, you know?
My parents taught me to be grateful for what I have, so I have always thanked the dear Lord for the ability to breathe and detect smells. And, it holds up my glasses just fine, thank you very much. But aside from that, I have never once truly appreciated the schnoz that sits in the middle of my face.
From the front, it looks like my dad's nose; from the side, it resembles my mom's. All put together, my nose has always had its own issues. Too pointy, too freckly, too crooked, too long. You name it, I could find a complaint about it.
In elementary school, I was fascinated by Annie's nose: short, cute, and just right for her face. I'd have swapped with her in a heartbeat, but I doubt she wanted a proboscis with two different sized nostrils, never mind the fact that her nose probably would not look right on my face. But in 6th grade, having a nose you didn't like was a real problem. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Since that time in my life, I've encountered actual problems, such that my nose really didn't seem to cause me much anguish. I never thought about it on a daily basis again until Melina came along. I think the mini-me has my nose. So far, it looks great on her, but I do wonder if someday, she'll have the same conversations I had to myself
I also wonder if it will take her until she is approaching 39 to look into the mirror and accept herself for who she is. Better late than never, you know?
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