I’m Not a Fix-Me-Up

I’ve never been the type to have a lot of body issues. Well, not any more than your average woman: meaning I’d love to have bigger breasts, though I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with them.

I also might want to lose that little extra belly fat that will never ever go away, because – you know – I like to actually eat. And a clearer skin would be nice.

However, there is one teeny tiny feature that has always bothered me quite a lot — My nose, which is neither teeny nor tiny. I mean, it’s not huge, it’s just distinctive.

And I hate it.

To the point that I almost punched a guy for uttering the words ”Great nose!”, because I thought he was fucking with me. Turned out it was a pick-up line.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.

You may wonder why I am suddenly blathering on about my nose. Who cares?

I obviously do. Or did. Probably, will again at some point, when I have one of those days. You know the ones I’m talking about. Those days when you think you’re an ugly troll that should be living under a bridge.

However, I just came to the realisation that I haven’t thought about my nose for a long time. And this is coming from a woman that even in her best of days would look in the mirror and think ”Hey, you look good today. Almost pretty. Shame about the nose.”

The funny thing is I couldn’t tell you what kind of a nose I’d prefer instead of mine.

Would a snub little nose really fit me? Probably not.

Would I look like me with a different nose? Definitely not.

I couldn’t really imagine my face without this nose. I couldn’t really imagine me without this nose.

I don’t really have a point here. I guess I’m just coming closer to accepting myself and my body – my genetic property passed onto me by my parents and grandparents.

I could fix it, improve it, add value to it.

Make it more sellable.

But at the end of the day, I’m not a fix-me-up.

~J~