When I was looking for plastic surgeons for my nosejob, I really did my research. I spoke with all my friends who had nosejobs, I looked online, and I read New York magazine on the “Best Doctors.” I was pretty happy with my decision to go with Dr. Michael Evan Sachs, or “Dr. Snaxxx” as my sisters referred to him. His “finesse rhinoplasty technique” (yes, he actually called it that) seemed less invasive as he wouldn’t break my nose; plus, I knew a girl who had her nose done by him, and it was a goddamn work of art.
By way of background, my main problem with my nose was that it drooped when I smiled, and to a lesser extent I was bothered by the small bump in the middle. Dr. Snaxxx cautioned me to keep my expectations realistic and I told him that I was merely hoping that this procedure would solve all my problems, bestow eternal youth upon me and turn me into a supermodel. Needless to say, when they removed the cast 5 days after surgery, the bump was gone, the droop was still there and my friend Risa had to look twice to make sure I actually got the surgery I had been bragging about. On an unrelated note, many years later Dr. Snaxxx had his medical license revoked in part for a number of botched surgeries and deaths.
Although in retrospect I am lucky to have escaped with my life, I have absolutely no doubt that my life would have been completely different if I had had an amazing nose job. First of all, I wouldn’t always have to take pictures from 3/4 angle. Second of all, I probably would have found love by now and gotten married. Third of all, my beauty would have increased exponentially and many good things flow from extreme beauty. Not that I think I’m ugly now, but I’ve learned that having a mediocre nose is just another cross to bear, like the bunion on my left foot or 20/400 vision or the prune chin that I have to get botoxed twice a year in order to de-prune.