There was a time in my life when I was obsessed with my nose....I hated it. It seemed huge. I was self-conscious about it. I was embarrassed by it. This was in that fragile period of adolescence when I was trying to make sense of the world and my place in it. And as I grew from a boy into a man, my nose seemed to be growing faster than the rest of me. I spent many hours with a hand mirror, standing in front of a big mirror so I could see it from the side view. I was trying to convince myself that it wasn't that big. Some days I was able to achieve that conclusion...but the next day I was back at square one. Thankfully, I can say that I was never bullied nor ridiculed by anyone in my family. Nor any of my friends or classmates. But comments were made: "You have the Hazlett nose"..."your nose is big"..."he's got a big nose too, like you." Things like that were said, but never in a mean way. It was just good-natured to them. But deep down, I was hurt.
Both my grandfather and my dad had "prominent" noses...but mine seemed more than "prominent" to me. So I made a decision to do something about it. First, I tried to cover it...there was a bump that seemed like a good place for a pair of glasses to sit on. So I decided that I was having trouble with my vision. And that resulted in my parents taking me to the eye doctor for an exam, which I faked to make the doctor think I needed a prescription for glasses. It worked. We went to the store to pick out frames, and in a matter of time I had a pair of glasses that sat on the bump of my nose and seemed to cover it up. In my teen-aged mind, it was a perfect solution and I felt free of the insecurity I had been living with. Well, this was great, except for I couldn't see very well with these glasses that I didn't really need. So after awhile, I knew this was not going to be a long term solution. My next option, one that I had been looking into, was plastic surgery-a nose job. There was a kid in my Junior High school that had an operation to pin his ears back so they didn't stick out so much. As far as I know, this was purely a cosmetic procedure, and he seemed much happier and confident after having it done. And there were two kids in High School that I knew had had nose jobs. One was a girl who had a broken nose and needed surgery to repair it...so it certainly was necessary, but she claimed it also improved the look of her nose. And there was another kid in my class who had a much bigger nose than I did, and he had a nose job just to make it look better. As far as I could see, once the bandages were removed and the swelling went down, he did look better. And he seemed happy about it. So that's when I decided to look into having plastic surgery. I wish I could remember more of the details for this story, but it has been 40 years, and I just can't recall many of them. But I did find my way...alone...to a plastic surgeons office for a consultation. I don't remember lying to the office staff about my age when I checked in. I filled out some papers and waited to see the surgeon. They called me back and seated my in a room. The doctor came in and took a look at me and the file they had created. "How old are you?" he asked. "16" I answered. "Are your parents here?" "No." "Timothy, I am not going to be able to have a consultation with you unless your parents are here with you. I am sorry that you were allowed in by yourself, but you have to be at least 18 to do this on your own. Do they know you are here?" "No" I told him. I am here alone. "If you want to have a consultation, you will need at least one of parents to be with you. I am going to have to call them and explain that you were allowed to see me, but that it was a mistake in the admitting process, but that no such consultation was given. Do you understand me, Timothy?" "Yes sir...I understand. And I am sorry to take your time. I just hate my nose and want to have a nose job to make it look better." "Well Timothy, please understand the reason I can't meet with you starts with the fact that this is surgery...it is not some magical, casual procedure. And all surgery comes with significant risks. And there is no guarantee that the results will be perfect."
And that was the end of that. I felt terrible about not telling my parents in the first place. And I felt bad that the doctor seemed alarmed that I had taken this step on my own. So I went home and faced the music...I talked to my mom. I could also have talked to my dad, but as I remember it, he was not home when I got home. But my mom was, and I sat her down and told her what I had done. To her credit, she kept he cool....she didn't get upset or angry...she didn't cry. She gave me a hug and the best pep talk a son could ever have. She told me she loved my nose....that it had character...that it was just a part of the whole me, and she loved every part of me...and that many famous people had large, or prominent noses, both men and women, and she proceeded to list some names. She assured me that I would "grow into my nose" and that it was the nose God had created for me, and I was loved by God.
These words sunk in. My dad was also very cool about it once she told him after he got home. And he and I had pretty much the same conversation too. So I took off the glasses, and I gave up the idea of having a nose job. I focused on the things that I loved...my violin, my guitar, sports, and girls.
It was during this time shortly after my failed plastic surgery attempt that another important event happened. I was in a bookstore at the mall looking through a book about the Beatles, my favorite band. I glanced down the self and saw another book about the Who. The first line of the book, on page 1, started out "Pete Townshend simply hated his nose." He too had a very large and prominent nose, and he experienced many of the same feelings I had been dealing with. Like I said above, my mom named several famous people who had big noses....but none of them were people I was a fan of. But Pete Townshend...this connected to me immediately. He spoke about using his insecurities about his nose and his looks to fuel his dream of being a rock star. He played the guitar like a wild man, jumping about and windmilling his arm, all in an attempt to take attention away from his nose. And it obviously worked for him.
There is a moment during the Who's concert in Philadelphia on 12/4/73 (you can hear the entire concert on YouTube) when Townshend is introducing a song call
I Am One from the album Quadrophenia:
"When I was an ipper, I always used to feel the guitar was all I had. I could have been right, of course. I wasn't tough enough to be a member of the gang, not good looking enough to be in with the birds, not clever enough to make it at school, not good enough with the feet to make a good football player. I was a fucking loser."
So as I entered my Junior year of high school, I began to "forget" about my nose. Maybe I was growing into it. But armed with my admiration for Pete Townshend, I was beginning to not only accept it, but to be confident with it. He was a world famous rock 'n roll musician after all.
Looking back now on that time in my life, 40 years ago, I am very thankful that I didn't have plastic surgery. I am very comfortable in my skin. And I can honestly say, I don't just like my nose, I love it, just like my mom told me she did. And it is the nose that God gave me, and I am glad I didn't change it. Adolescence is such a difficult time for so many people, and I know now I was neither emotionally nor intellectually equipped to make a major life decision such as having surgery. I was just a kid. Decisions such as these should made in adulthood, not childhood.
