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.