RHINOPLASTY: good or bad?

As a half-Iranian girl living in a country where slender, delicate noses dominate the world of beauty, I am naturally interested in nasal reconstruction.  How ethnically stereotypical of me, I know, but I'm sure nearly everyone has secretly fantasized about cosmetic surgery of some kind at one point in their lives.  Nearly everyone I talk to about rhinoplasty (nose surgery) will voice their disgust for the procedure immediately.  They'll pull up some cosmetic surgery horror stories, maybe give Michael Jackson or Jocelyn Wildenstein a dishonorable mention, and then echo the same, "You're beautiful just the way you are" speech we've all heard from our parents a hundred times too many.  I do believe beauty exists in everyone, yet why is it that when someone gets a nose job they suddenly become "ugly?"  Is it because we see the operation as an act of vanity, or because the media frightens us with the surgical failures of celebrities?  Or is it something else altogether?

why do people get nose jobs?

Good question! While rhinoplasty is often performed for cosmetic reasons, it sometimes is done to help improve the patient's state of nasal breathing, correct birth defects, or reverse the damage of an injury.  From what I've observed, the last three reasons are valued as the most legitimate reasons to undergo the procedure, while enhancing one's appearance tends to be shunned by many.  I researched the good and bad reasons to got through nose surgery, and my findings can be generalized as the following:

GOOD REASONS

• Improve breathing
• Correct genetic defect or injury
• Boost self confidence

BAD REASONS

• Peer pressure, or even pressure from family and friends (whaat?!)
• Career
• Taking advantage of insurance
• Just 'cause (okay, I didn't find this reason in research, but it would definitely be a bad idea!)

Let's reflect on the good reasons for a second.  You see the third bullet point? The one about self confidence? Yeah.  Medical professionals deemed it a valid reason to undergo the procedure.  Self confidence is a part of your psychological health.  If you are an individual who has been hiding behind their nose for years, saddened and frustrated every time you look in the mirror, chances are you might also suffer from depression.  Depression is an illness, and while a nose job probably won't fix everything, it could be an extraordinary confidence booster. That is, if the operation goes well.  This is where I diverge onto success rates.

rhinoplasty gone bad

All surgeries pose risks.  Rhinoplasty certainly is no easy task and perfection should not be expected.  The level of technical difficulty depends on the form of your nose, and even experienced surgeons can make mistakes.  Imagine you are unhappy with your nose, you save up just enough money for reconstruction, and you end up with frightening results.  You might have developed acne post-operation.  Maybe part of your nose is missing that shouldn't be, or it looks even bigger or more crooked than before. You cry because of the waste of money and because your  expectations have been crushed.  You are furious.  You are afraid to get rhinoplastic revision because your first nose job left a psychological scar.  Your self esteem worsens and voices echo, "I told you so."  You have nightmares about looking like a certain dark lord who shall not be named.

Aren't I a handsome lad?

I don't think anyone wants this to happen to them.  Even ol' Moldy Voldy would probably prefer to have his nose back.  So really, if anyone is considering nasal reconstruction, they have to be evaluated by highly esteemed professionals.  It would be a good idea to evaluate the ability of your chosen surgeon.  Mom says not to trust the internet, but I guess looking at Yelp! reviews to guide you wouldn't be so terrible.  Talk to your doctor about the risks and possible benefits.  You have to be a good candidate and you should never go to a surgeon because they are cheaper than another.  That's totally sketch.  Like, buying-Pop-Rocks-in-a-back-alley-inhabited-by-zombie-cats sketch.  In conclusion, do your research like a sensible person, be evaluated by more than one professional, and if you do decide to go into the surgery, accept the risks.  Also remember that the surgery takes a full year to recover from completely, so don't have high expectations for two months post-operation.  And relax.  From what I hear, the surgeries usually go reasonably well.

nice nose jobs

Let's just take a look at this link, shall we?

http://www.totallytop10.com/entertainment/top-10-examples-of-great-nose-surgery-nose-jobs

Or you can just Google search "good nose jobs."  Why is it that I never even knew Halle Berry had a nose job? Or Wynona Rider, for that matter?  Probably because, like millions of other people, I tend to remember the bad ones.  The horribly disfigured face of a celebrity plastered on the front of a popular tabloid while waiting in the cashier line at the grocery store causes me to lose my appetite for the soup I planned on buying.  While flicking through TV channels, I happen to land on TMZ or a similar type of show, bombarded by another cosmetic surgery gone wrong.  I think it might be nice to see a few well-done surgeries, for a change.

in conclusion?

I think, if done for the right reasons, and if one is a good candidate, then rhinoplasty could certainly be beneficial.  And if it is my money, it is my choice, because it is my nose, not yours.  If you preach not judging or criticizing people because of their skin color or sexual orientation, don't you think judging someone because of their cosmetic decisions is a bit hypocritical? Just a thought.

why my grandparents' house upsets me

Right now, at this moment, I am sitting in a guest bed at my grandparents' house in Belmont, CA (near San Mateo).  The comforter is the same as it has always been--white with delicate floral patterns.  Every time I've spent the night here, I choose this bed.  I don't know why.  Perhaps it is because since infancy I've regarded this bed as a symbol of elegance and luxury--two things I fell in love with due to the several Disney princess movies I watched.  I wanted to be a princess.  I somehow connected royalty, charming princes, and enchanting songs to happiness.  I thought if I could grow up to become one of these beautiful, slender, kind-hearted and modest girls, I would be waltzed away to a fairytale kingdom by a handsome prince who truly loved me.  I wasn't alone in this dream.  In fact, many of my preschool and kindergarten friends dressed up as princesses.  They were mini Cinderellas and Belles with gorgeous taffeta dresses adorned by fake jewels and flowers.  Their mothers bought their costumes from the Disney store.  My mom, on the other hand, made us either reuse costumes or wear homemade ones.  So for my fifth Halloween, I was just an ordinary princess.  I wore a poofy dress that was no less uncomfortable than the store-bought ones, yet much uglier.  It was plain and white.  Upon my bowl-shaped haircut rested a tiny plastic tiara, no doubt from the dollar store.  To make things worse, I had to stay home because I was sick from the flu.  Or maybe I had lice.  Or both.  Nonetheless, I swore that I would never stop dreaming of the Disney princess lifestyle.  I grew determined to be like them--they were so beautiful and loved.  I thought maybe if I wanted it enough, if I believed enough, it would come true, just like Cinderella said.

I was so, so wrong.

I never was beautiful like those princesses.  I thought maybe it was just an ugly-duckling sort of thing, that when I got older I would get prettier, but as I got older, I actually got uglier.  I started putting on weight--muscle, mostly, but by Junior year in high school I no longer looked model-thin.  Sometime during or after elementary school, my nose started growing into this humongous beast of flesh and cartilage--nothing like the pretty, tiny noses of the princesses I loved.  I started to hate my bushy Iranian eyebrows, my boring brown hair and boring brown eyes, and especially my ugly name.  My new goal was to keep up good grades so that in the future I could go to a good college and make enough money to get a nose job and become a different person.  I was going to change my name to something normal, like Angela Brown or April Miller.  I was going to be so pretty that handsome rich guys would want to marry me and I could live happily ever after in my perfect little blond-haired, blue-eyed, Wonderbread-white paradise.  And then I would raise beautiful children and buy them whatever costumes they wanted from any store they wanted.

I kept this dream locked deep down inside of me.  I never told anyone how obsessed I was with this fantasy.  So when I started acting strange, I blamed it on teen drama.  Cutting myself with an X-acto knife, forcing myself to chuck up the food I ate so I could be bone-thin again, crying myself to sleep, hating myself...I said it was the stress of being a high school girl with straight A's and the pressures of varsity cross country and track.  I told this to my psychiatrist.  I told this to my mom.  I told this to my best friend.  I said I didn't know why I hated myself and how I looked, but promised I would get better.

I know it isn't princess-like to lie, but I did.  Every time I saw a popular girl who was blonde, thin, well-dressed, or had a hot boyfriend, I was instantly reminded of my failure to achieve Disney princess beauty and popularity.  I threw myself a pity party and starved myself for months, which slowed me down quite a bit and had almost no effect on my weight loss efforts except that it brought my metabolism down to a sluggish rate.  I am still struggling with issues of self-esteem, but I'm trying.  I've been to a therapist twice, but I stopped because talking about it made me embarrassed and didn't really help at all.  I'm healing myself by myself.

And yet here I am in my grandma and grandpa's house, because my family members decided that I am adequately prepared to take care of my grandpa for a week while my grandma helps my oldest sister move to Florida.  As if I was emotionally and physically stable enough to sit in this grand house, reminded by my childhood fantasies that never materialized.

So, now you know, people of the Internet.  I had to get that ridiculous secret off my chest and I figured, "Hey, why not post it on that blog I have that no one reads?" Thanks for taking the time and not judging me.  I love you, fellow strange person.♥♥♥