One of the most interesting things about changing my nose has been the realization that most people do not even notice the things I don’t like about my appearance. I’ve told several people about my surgery, only to hear them respond with, “Wait, your nose is different? Seriously?”
I felt self-conscious about my nose for more than a decade, wincing every time I’d see a photo that caught me from the side. But it turns out that many of the people I’ve met had absolutely no clue that the bridge had an awkward bump or that the tip was pointy like a beak or that when I said certain words, the end of my nose would wiggle as the skin stretched against the long piece of cartilage within. Not that I changed my nose for other people or that I expected it to improve my life in any way—it was more so I could stop focusing on those imperfections and making myself feel bad about them.
I’ve been thinking about this lesson a lot lately in other areas, too. I hate my thighs and haven’t worn shorts that don’t end a couple inches above my knees in many years. I’m self-conscious about the shape of my thighs and my cellulite (which I actually had—though, not as much—even when I wore a size 0 in high school). I have some shorter shorts that I wear around the house but I’ve been venturing outside in them lately. I remind myself it’s likely that no one else even notices my legs.
Sometimes, I wish I could see myself through the faraway, Vaseline-smeared lens that most others view me through. It’s hard to remember that the up-close-and-personal flaws you obsess over aren’t visible to anyone else but, really, let’s not flatter ourselves. Nobody cares! Truly.