“What is it that you want to change?” The doctor asked without emotion.

“Well,” The patient took a deep breath as she gathered the courage to speak the words
she had been thinking to herself for years, “The biggest thing for me is my side profile when I
smile. The tip droops down, you see. Like this.”

She turned to the side and smiled quickly.

“I also want the slope to be smooth, you know, like Kim Kardashian’s nose, but like, a
me version.”

“Yes, I would be happy to work with you. This is a simple case you have,” the doctor said
with authority.

“Oh?” the patient said, anticipating.

“I see you have a deviated septum. I also observed that you have a slightly bulbous
droopy tip, some asymmetry to the left, everyone has a bit of asymmetry, perfectly
normal…and I see you have a dorsal hump and possibly oversized nostrils.”

“Your neck is long and beautiful, swan-like and you have big, big beautiful brown eyes,”
the doctor added.

The patient swallowed self-consciously, “Thank you.”

“I think a small change in the tip angle would look very pretty with the rest of your
pretty features.”

“Yes, I agree completely,” the patient blinked and nodded.

She was new to this objective manner of picking apart her insecurities. It felt sterile and
safe. Her consciousness flew away and all that was left was a three-dimensional carving of her
imperfect model. A beautiful, unfinished object. Everything could be fixed, the rough edges
smoothed. Even the years of suppressed self-loathing seemed to melt away when she learned how it was all just a slight genetic mishap. The nose, passed down and protected through
generations of Ashkenazi Jews, had always been a tipping point when it came to her
confidence. If she made a social blunder it was all the worse because of the nose. If she had a
success it was just slightly lessened by her facial profile. She knew how ridiculous this nose-centered thinking sounded, yet she could not tear herself away from it.

When she told her friends that she planned to cut off her nose in favor of a more
Instagram-model friendly version, they all nodded in support but made sure to squeeze in a,
“Oh c’mon, your nose isn’t so bad!” What nobody had the heart to tell her was that her nose
wasn’t that good either. But she knew the truth, just like everyone else: the nose wasn’t perfect
by her society’s standards of beauty.

She began having second thoughts about the surgery ever since she learned that Nazis
would identify Jewish people based on their noses. Some of the early rhinoplasty surgeries
were done in a rushed attempt to protect Jewish women from the being killed or trafficked
during the Holocaust.

Her grandfather had survived the Holocaust after growing up in a concentration camp.
Now, it all comes down to vanity.

God bless America.

Once the weight of the nose is lifted, she will finally be free to do what she always wanted to do in life. Write a novel about nothing, travel across the United Stated in a beaten-up
RV, land in sunny California and maybe accidentally star in a suave-yet-existential Hollywood
film. The Hollywood people would stare in awe at the beautiful girl with the beautiful nose and
she would finally be recognized for all the things she felt she was. She would finally be
applauded and honored for her great talents. Just like that her feelings of inferiority would vanish into thin air; she would become
more assertive and tell people off when they are being mean. She would become a yoga
master; one with the universe and with all things past present and future. She would battle
with the grim reaper, win, and then live forever, happily ever after…

So yeah. Maybe she got a little carried away. After all, it’s just a nose.
But what if…

One of the qualifying aspects of a rhinoplasty patient is the ability to have reasonable
expectations for the surgical outcome. The surgery cannot change your life, the website
warned. She spoke in objective terms with the doctor and acted as if The Nose was just a small,
yet persistent annoyance. No Big Deal. A fly buzzing in the ear. 

Her boyfriend’s name means
“crooked nose” in Gaelic, and so what if it is all meant to be? What if I am supposed to have this
nose all my life in some grand cosmic plan? 

The guilt came rolling in like a tsunami. Would I be
betraying my fellow crooked-nosed Jews? But why do I even feel obligated to consider other
people’s stance when considering my facial structure?

Fucking politics.

The Nose is a feature that has been used time and time again in anti-Jewish, racist
caricatures and propaganda. I hope to escape the caricature by chopping it off my face. I am
scared that people see me only as a caricature, as just another predictable token…

“Oh, of course she’s a Jew! She’s certainly got the nose…”

I want to assimilate…

Would I be surrendering myself to the social reign of external beauty? Certainly.

Would I be violating my value of self-acceptance? Seems like it.

But boy do I love to objectify myself this way…

There’s no way out, we are objects after all. First, we are human beings. Our
consciousness extends to the edges of the universe and back. But then, as we stir, as we move
around and jump and run and fuck, we are suddenly objects acting within a simulation
generated by space and time. I want my character to have a perfect nose. She might have more
success that way.

I wish I could just love every inch of myself without editing or deleting anything.
Wouldn’t that be nice.