Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…

I have a big nose.Hayes-3062-5x7

I don’t think about it often. Most times I forget how big my nose is until I catch a glimpse of it in one of those mirrors where you can see yourself from all angles. When this happens, I’m often shocked to realize I’d forgotten how my profile looks. Huh, I tend to think. Oh, yeah. I do have a big nose.

It’s not gargantuan. Or grotesque. Or life-altering. It’s got a big bump in the middle. Big noses run in my family. My mom has the same bump, although hers isn’t as noticeable—which is probably why I tend to forget about mine. My sister had a big nose, but thanks to her severely deviated septum, she no longer does. I remember how she looked after her surgery with her head in bandages, her face swollen and purple, and I thought, okay, my nose isn’t so bad. My dad had a crooked nose and thanks to the beauty of genetics, I ended up with the bump and the curve.

My husband and I went on a reward trip for his job a number of years ago. We met another couple that we saw several times over the course of the weekend. One evening, after a few cocktails, he said, “Your nose is so…” He paused and I’m pretty sure I leaned toward him, anticipating with a sense of wonder and dread what he was going to say. I didn’t dare look at my husband, for I’m sure he was smirking. I did sneak a glance at the man’s wife and she looked as if she would like to disappear into the fibers of the rug upon which we were standing. He finally, after the very dramatic pause concluded, “interesting.”

Good save. And yes, my husband was indeed smirking. But you know what? He was right. It is interesting. Three generations of my family right smack in the center of my face.

What about you? Do you see something in the mirror you’d like to change but realize it represents where you came from? If so, would you please share?

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About Christy Hayes

A wife, a mother and a writer of romantic women's fiction. I love dogs, exercise and cable news.

Posted on October 28, 2013, in Blog Posts and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 16 Comments.

  1. I think everyone has something they’d like to change about themselves. But if we all looked perfect, we wouldn’t be unique. Your nose looks fine to me. And I hope you husband decked the guy for being so rude.

    • We both got a good laugh and I wasn’t offended. I think his wife felt worse than anyone. It was kind of refreshing to hear someone speak so honestly. It’s not a bad memory, just a memorable one!

  2. I’ve got big nose and big calf genes from both sides. Got the nose fixed in 1986 — the last time I broke it.

    Lyle has my nose but nobody can tell unless they knew me in high school.

    • Never was lucky enough to break the sucker, Laura. I’m too chicken to do it on my own.

      • It hurts to get it fixed. And the removal of the packing was worse than excruciating (no words)

        Mine was totally blocked. Up on both sides so it was “medically necessary. Saw somewhere that insurance won’t cover even medically necessary ones any more.

  3. Hmmm…. I got my big mouth — size, shape & ‘mouthiness’ from my mom and truthfully, I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. I love being like her. 🙂 Of course, since I’m constantly putting my foot in my mouth — I use the excuse that “I may not be tactful, but I’m always honest!”. LOL! Oh and Christy — I agree with Tracy, your nose looks fine to me and you are beautiful — both inside and out! 🙂

    • I love your big mouth, Stephanie! I think you’ve got a little bit of Peggy in you, too (and that’s a very good thing). Thanks for the kind words. I’m not fishing for compliments, but they sure are nice to hear 🙂

  4. My sisters Susan and Carol inherited my Dad’s “Roman nose” as did I. But because it seemed always a compliment to have such a “bump” I never minded it. Susan had hers fixed, though. I never felt that weird about it.
    Your picture is gorgeous.

  5. Christy, I know you so well and have never once considered your nose–like, never even thought about it one way or another. So, it’s a non-issue nose. You’re a gorgeous girl, and yes, I know you weren’t fishing for compliments, you wouldn’t dream of it.

    My grandmother told me I had ugly feet once when I was about ten years old. I’d never even thought about my feet until then. They are pretty ugly, truth be told, but it came as a shock that she didn’t think I was utterly perfect. I’m sure she was kidding, but I still remember. I don’t hold it against her, though. She was wonderful.

    I have a list of my imperfections, but the physical ones hardly bother me. I’ll let the beholders worry about those.

    • Your feet are not ugly, Susan, and how sad your grandmother didn’t realize how that hurt. As parents, we have to know that our words can slice wounds deeper than any knife.

  6. So if I ever get to meet you in person, Christy, you’re saying I shouldn’t stare? I inherited my calves and my ankles from my dad’s side. Big calves. Big ankles. But I love how put it…that these things represent where we came from. Nice! 🙂

  7. I come from a long line of big-boned women, on both sides of the family. Even my sister, who’s petite, has a big bone structure for her size. My older niece inherited it, too. The good news? We probably don’t have to worry about osteoporosis. 🙂

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