I had my face cut off the other day. It was my contribution to the Beautify America Campaign. No seriously, I had a small growth removed under my eyes. I had always thought it was my nose, but the doctor said I was wrong. Just kidding again, it was a sweat gland beside my nose that had enlarged and had grown abnormally. The doctor said it probably was nothing, and the chance of it being cancerous was about five per cent. He still felt it should be removed and biopsied, just to be safe, and because he needed a new set of golf clubs and a new golf cart. I tried to convince him to tell the insurance company it was on my nose so I could have my nose made over, and he could get a new Lexus to drive to the golf course, but he wasn’t buying–funny how ethics can get in the way at the most inconvenient times.
I really could use a new nose. The one I have has always been big and it keeps growing. They say your nose will grow throughout your life. At that rate in a couple years I will end up looking like Pinocchio if he were a politician. They say you should make the best of what you have. I’ve tried to memorize the speech of Cyrano de Bergerac about his nose, but I can’t even remember Steve Martin’s in Roxanne.
It is funny how people always try to make the best of the body parts they are dissatisfied with. I have a good friend who is bald and tries to hide it with the good old comb-over. I did say tries. It’s hard to cover a whole head when your hair doesn’t grow above your ears. If he let the hair he has hang straight down instead of crisscrossing it across the top of his head, it would reach his knees. Often he will say,” Grass doesn’t grow on a busy street.” I always want to respond with, “It doesn’t grow on a rock either,” but we have been friends for a long time, and I’d like to keep it that way. Nowadays it has become popular for men who are going bald to shave their heads. I guess it’s not being bald that bothers them as much as going bald. In my first novel In The Sticks the sheriff makes a comment, “A shaved head makes a black guy look tough, but it makes a white guy look like he’s going through chemotherapy.” I’ll stand by that in most cases.
I once heard a psychologist say that every woman thinks her breasts are either too big or too small. There are no Momma Bear breasts that are, “just right.” Women’s attitudes about their breasts usually fall into two camps. Some do everything they can to hide them, while others proudly let them hang out as if saying, “Take a look at these puppies.” I’ve notice most guys are more than willing to do just that. I once heard that breast reduction and breast enlargement are the two most common elective surgeries. One camp is growing things and one camp is shrinking things. As I get older I’m discovering what it’s like to have boobs. I’m definitely in the keep-them-hidden camp. I know I won’t get them enhanced. I hope they don’t get so big I have to get them reduced.
It all comes down to wanting what you don’t have. Women with big breasts want smaller ones, and women with small breasts want larger ones. I guess I can take comfort in knowing there is probably someone out there with a little peanut-sized nose who would love to have my big honker. It’s what makes the world go round and keeps doctors driving Cadillacs to golf courses.