I can’t believe you had a nose job. Do you know what a regular person could do with that kind of money? Good gawd, I could go on a week’s vacation, pay off a credit card, get a massage and throw one hell of a party, and I’d still have money to spare for what you’ve spent on something that didn’t freakin’ need fixing!
I was looking at our high school yearbook photos just last week at Scootster’s house when I was drinking all his beers…you were cute then, dorky cute, hadn’t quite grown into your calm, confident sense of self yet. And as an adult, 4 out of 4 people that I surveyed told me they thought your nose was just fine and that you were a good lookin’ guy.
Ah, but now it’s your old nose. Your old nose was fine. We must talk about it in the past tense. Your old nose. Now you have a nice new nose. I wonder if I’d still recognize you…I’ve known you since we were Minime’s age, I wonder if my brain can wrap itself around the idea of your new feature–I have the photo you took of yourself on the plane last year, such a good photo, but would I know you today?
It’s just weird for me to think about. I like to see the familiar angles of my friends’ faces as the years pass. I take comfort in that familiarity. And you chose to change that, your choice of course, your call to make and really not my business, but it’s so strange to me, hard for me to understand it. I don’t choose my friends because of their appearances or their checkbooks or the cars they drive, so in that light, you are my friend no matter how old or new your nose…I send my love, I wish you a speedy recovery and when all’s well, I want to see. I hope the change brings you confidence and peace.