Keep your nose out of this!

Keep your nose out of this!

Of all the features of the entire face, the nose attracts most attention. For ages, the media has endorsed the sleek, upturned nose to such an extent that anyone who isn’t blessed with the “perfect” nose has been made aware of the fact. This is especially so when you are a member of the fairer sex.

I’m female, with a nose that is large in all possible ways. It begins with a wide impressive bridge, turns super fleshy in between and ends with a dramatic outward flare. It has attracted its fair share of negative attention during my adolescent years, presumably when the other facial features are also not at their best. And this was especially so as my mother is a conventionally beautiful woman, with a straight, sharp nose.

Friends, who descended to our home during holidays, would take one look at my nose and remark that I looked like my father. Just as one would accept their observation as a compliment, they’d go on to quip that a big nose looked okay on men, but not on women! As if one could chose one’s genetics!

My parents weren’t the most benevolent either. The slightest sign of dissent on my part and my easily-angered mother would tell my father, “Look at the way the girl’s nose flares! She isn’t our daughter at all — she’s Shah Rukh Khan’s daughter!” (This could only happen if the actor sired a child at 20.)

Time passed, but the scars remained. I considered ways and means of hiding my nose. Rhinoplasty was quickly ruled out as the prospect of going under a scalpel and later being bed-ridden, even for a week, terrified me. I decided to try out less hardcore options, which included “The Artful Use of Make-up”. Or so I thought. The idea was to create a smaller nose by using light makeup on the bridge and darker makeup on the sides of the nose. This exercise seemingly required a plethora of beauty products, some of which I hadn’t even heard of. I decided to use what I already had and got down to business with my dark brown blush and bronze eye shadow.

Feeling pretty pleased with the results, I went out for a walk. My euphoric mood persisted until I met an acquaintance. She stopped, looked at me in concern and gently enquired, “Is everything okay? Why is your nose looking burnt?” I gave up on make-up after this debacle.

Flit to present, I’ve made peace with my nose. I now flaunt it with pride — like a prized accessory. Apparently, in countries like Japan, a large nose is seen as a sigh of wisdom and royal heritage. That is probably why a Japanese company hired me and remains my biggest and most long-standing client.

My nose clearly is my good luck charm, one associated with outstanding success and prosperity. Maybe it’s time I claimed my inheritance from Mr Shah Rukh Khan? After all, I could be the oldest of his children.