Why I Haven't Had a Nose Job

Every once in a while, I think to myself, why don't I just get a nose job?

Why not, indeed? This is one of those recurring thoughts, along with:

• Can I call myself funny if, at least once a week, I'm the only one doubled over laughing and everyone else is just sort of smiling faintly and perhaps feeling awkward?
• Will I ever be able to find a pair of skinny jeans that fit over my ginormous runner's calves?
• How many calories are in a caramel frappucino?
• Did I forget to lock my car, or is someone stealing my Eminem and Glee CD's right now?

These are big concerns, people. 

But we were talking about my nose. Because, while these things always pop into my mind, the truth is, I know the answers (No, probably not, 380 for a Grande with whip as if I'd ever order a frapp without it, yes but no one wants my CDs).

And, while I'd never say never, I don't see a nose job in my future. Because I hate the idea of surgery. Because I want my future kids to have a frame of reference when they inherit a beaked nose themselves. Because to some extent, this is my feminist statement - I know I'm not conventionally beautiful, and it doesn't matter.

But the truth is? I might not make a feminist statement if I genuinely disliked the way I looked, and when it comes to future hypothetical kids, well - I don't even remember to take my pre-natal vitamins "just in case", so it's probably not about them.  I have likely suffered worse facial pain than plastic surgery thanks to my short-lived collegiate diving career (more on that another day).

I believe in the french concept of jolie laide, which translates rather awfully to "Pretty-ugly", but which means the appeal of a woman who isn't conventionally beautiful, but is nonetheless attractive.  It's a term that I only heard recently, but that I internalized long before that. Most days, I've made peace with a nose (and a chin, for that matter) that would never make it in show business and - gasp - love the way I look. Other days, of course, I get on the "I could be prettier if..." highway, leading to that wonderful question I opened with. But part of being a woman today seems to involve the occasional bout of, if not crippling, at least a bad-sprain level of insecurity. I usually hand my ego an ice pack and tell it to stop being a baby. I like my looks upwards of 90% of the time, and that's better than many pretty girls I know!

Finding the term jolie laide just gave me a bit more justification for not getting a nose job in a society that often appears to value a homogenouus female perfection. Sirens mag introduced me to the term, and the New York Times' article on The Unfairest Of Them All taught me more about the concept.

But I already knew all about jolie laide, even if I didn't have a phrase for it. I'd already fallen in love with being not pretty, but sort of - just a little - gorgeous.

Oh, Women's Health, how you amuse me.

I was just reading the June edition of Women's Health, and this made me laugh (from p. 45 on keeping your feet from pre-mature aging):

Choi advises doing one foot treatment a day. "I tell my client to hydrate their cuticles on Monday, smoth calluses on Tuesday, exfoliate on Wednesday, and then repeat for the rest of the week," she says.

Maybe I'm just not as impressed as I should be by the perils of aging feet. Maybe I'll find out the hard way, someday, when MJ leaves me for chronically failing to maintain my pedicure and having calluses big enough that I could use my heels to sand down a small table and instead, begins smooching the toes of a sandal model.

But I'm more likely to find a cure for cancer in my free time than I am to follow a three-day repeating beauty regimen for my feet. Hydrating cuticles? Who is that big a perfectionist about their physical appearance?

(If you are, by the way, that article also has a helpful recipe for a bleaching agent for your toenails)

June 06 - Cafes, Museums, and a Little Red Cardigan

I'm in Augusta, GA, for business for the whole month of June. I'm not going to lie and say I'm 100% thrilled with this - I miss MJ and my kitties (Buffy, and my two adorable foster cats, Buster and Bonzai). But still, there's fun to be had, exploring a new city solo.

Today I started off at the New Moon Cafe for breakfast. While I admit to a fairly serious Starbucks addiction, my preference is indie coffee shops and I always look for them when I travel.  The New Moon Cafe is in Augusta's not-quite-convincing downtown. Still, there was tons of parking outside, and the New Moon Cafe had tasty croissants, the best white hot chocolate I've had since my SoCal coffee shop closed down (Sad face) and free wi-fi. I will definitely be heading back there during this month (the fact that I wrote 5,000 more words of my novel there didn't hurt my impression, either).

Then I headed over to the Morris Museum of Art.  It's on the Riverwalk, which is very scenic - it was too hot to walk much (96 degrees) when I was exploring, but I might go back for an early morning run next weekend. Look how pretty it is:

 Loved the museum, which is quite small but lovely nonetheless. One of the docents told me all about some of my favorite pieces in the museum, which was a fun conversation. Unfortunately, most of my photos came out grainy, but here's one portrait that I think turned out decently. The portraits are always my favorites - I love seeing the faces from the past, and the way the artistic styles change dependent on culture and the standard of beauty for that time period.

Yep, I'm a sucker for anything with a cat.

After I finished at the museum, I headed over to the local movie theater. I've never been to a movie by myself before, and the idea was faintly uncomfortable, so I had to. I saw Letters to Juliet. It was a pretty predictable romantic movie, but I enjoyed it. I'm also going to have to see Easy A when it comes out; that's one of the few trailers for an allegedly funny movie that's ever actually gotten an audible laugh from me.


Also, as part of my "Let's pretend we have a style... or style at all... and maybe we will!" campaign, I took a photo of today's outfit.

Red cardigan from New York and Company, Black Dot Lace Cami from White House Black Market, cropped off-brand jeans, and red flip-flops from White House Black Market (doesn't it seem like they're cheating?)  I don't like wearing a 3/4 sleeve cardigan with cropped pants, but there's only so much I can pack/shop on one trip.  Outfits will only be showcased on days off from work, as on weekdays I pretty much am in my work uniform or pajamas only.

So that... was my day today. Now I'm off to run on the treadmill, swim in the hotel pool, and try to do some yoga (I'm not patient enough for yoga).

Shoes!

I wore these shoes today. Love them.

They're the black lace pump from White House, Black Market. Only I picked mine up at T.J. Maxx. In college, my girl friends and I would head to T.J. Maxx in our very dingy local mall to pick through for fun clothes and accessories, and I'm still addicted to the bargain-hunting. I dragged M.J. there recently - they also sometimes have La Creuset at a discount, which is another addiction of mine and something even he's willing to root through T.J. for - and this was the happy result. Alas, there was no La Creuset this time. I imagine we'll have to head back soon.

Of course, at the end of a long hard day (of shopping, mostly), I was glad to slip these old friends back on:

I'm trying to be more stylish lately, I really am.  I can't wear jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops all the time.

But since I'm trying, why can't Style try and be a bit more friendly to one's feet?

Back!

I stopped this blog, shortly after opening it, to focus on my writing blog, This Is Not My Day Job. I've found lately, though, there are lots of other things I'd like to blog about - recipes, home decor, fashion, money, pets (Ok, I'm blogging about the kitties everywhere, let's not delude ourselves). I don't want to dilute my writing blog with *too* many unrelated posts.

So I'm back. :)