Loved this poignant essay in Elle about a young woman regretting her nose job that took away the nose that resembled her Dad’s, who is now dying:
And then there was my nose—his nose—which grew more exaggerated at the onset of puberty. It became the focus of my self-loathing, a manifestation of all my shortcomings as a girl. Altering it was one way, at least, that I could become more feminine.
So, a few days after high school graduation, I finally got my nose job. The surgery flattened the bridge of my nose but left it with a lengthy tip and asymmetrical nostrils. A second procedure shaved down the tip and reshaped the nostrils. As promised, it made my face softer. Less self-conscious, I began to put more care into the way I dressed and even wore a little makeup.
But the anxious, tugging sensation in my chest was still there. Surgery eliminated the one problem that had so preoccupied me, but it forced me to acknowledge another, bigger issue—my sexuality—that would make me a failed woman in my father’s eyes.
I definitely have my Dad’s nose, one that looks a little better on my two half-brothers. But I couldn’t imagine changing it.
Who do you most resemble, your Dad or Mom? Have you surgically altered any of your features?