By a Nose


I’m not usually vain, but thanks to Amy, I’ve recently been thinking a lot about my nose.

I don’t know if you can tell in my profile picture, but I’m the bearer of an unusually long nose. I mostly notice it in photographs taken from in front and slightly above me, where the viewer can peer down the bridge of my nose as a skier might look down a particularly steep Austrian Alp.

As a teenager, I hated it. I was constantly catching it in my peripheral vision, a reminder of my permanent place among the ranks of the average-looking masses. I mean, there I was, a unique and poetic soul with dreams of being wooed by the prince of a small nation or swept away on horseback to the halls of Pemberley to be adored by the modern day equivalent of Mr. Darcy, and all the time I was saddled with this monstrosity of cartilage and bone–a fleshy, immovable barrier to my transcendental designs.

That was years ago, though, and I think that my nose and I have finally made peace with each other. It no longer jumps out to surprise me from pictures (a nasty habit it developed in the eighties), and somehow I won my princely Mr. Darcy despite its stubborn refusal to mutate into a cute little button nose set over a pair of pouty, bee-stung lips. (Lips, however, are a subject for another day.) At last, I’m able to claim my nose with some measure of acceptance and yes, even pride.

So many people have boring noses.

Jennifer Grey, for example, should have spent more time in self-reflection before subjecting her distinctive schnoz to the knifework of Hollywood surgeons, becoming just another pretty face in a town full of them. Her nose used to be a beacon of individuality and spirited self-assurance. We all watched her with fond delight as she flouted convention to cha-cha with Johnny Castle in Dirty Dancing and ditched school to catch Ferris Bueller red-handed, faking his ninth sick day of the year.

Where did she go? She disappeared, or so I thought until the Internet Movie Database revealed her to be the forgettable flight attendant in the Ben Affleck/Gwyneth Paltrow vehicle, Bounce. Gone forever is the cute little hook on the front of her face, and, seemingly, the hook that snagged her the juicy character roles we remember her for.

So I guess I’ll keep my nose. It may never net me a speaking part in a movie, but Paul seems rather sentimental about it, and I am kind of attached to it.

Besides, I spent all my plastic surgery money on sushi and scrapbook supplies.


8 responses »

  1. The only nation that I might be considered a small prince over is my own nose. As for Pemberley, you must realize by now that it has to have more than two bedrooms and one bath.

  2. Your nose don’t look bad. I have to say that I am no means bragging, but I ended up with a nice nose from my dad;however, I also ended up with his body shape which isn’t so nice (skinny legs,gut that looks like a butt…you get the picture). At times I’d gladly trade in this nose for a nice lean body shape!!!!

  3. I have long ago realized I won’t be a head-turner at the grocery store, but I hope that I just turn one head in my life and that’s even if he has to do it to get a second look at my montrous schnozz! (Just kidding!) I think my 30’s have been years of coming to terms with all the things I hate about myself and realizing they just don’t matter anymore.

  4. I thought it looked elegant. All about perspective, isn’t it….

    MY fleshy, immovable barrier, as you put it, is wrapped around my hips and is hatefully referred to by me as The Great Wall of Baby. It’s never going away. Crap.

    But sign me up for that Darcy / Pemberley thing too.

  5. and now I must find the time to watch the five hour Colin Firth as Mr Darcy because I LOVE that movie. Also, it is things like our noses that give us character. It is like when I was learning to sew, every time I messed up I would just laugh to my Grandmother and say, “hmm, just a bit more character.” By the end my grandmother said that my duvet cover had a lot more character than it needed, which is the way I feel about my body, it has a lot of character 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s