What can YOU say in six sentences?
“You’ll probably want a nose job when you get older,” my mother used to say. When even your mother doesn’t think you’re pretty, it confirms the agonizing self –consciousness that makes adolescence a living hell for everyone. I learned to live with my nose, to appreciate my good points—beautiful hands, a long, graceful neck, unusual, dark green eyes, great skin and hair.
My eyes haven’t faded, my hair is still thick, my skin remarkably unlined for a woman my age. I do miss my neck, though, still long, still graceful, no longer beautiful. And I know that inevitably, my other vanities will fall, casualties of time.