Tuesday, October 19, 2010


When I was a small child, I had a beautiful nose. It was feminine, dainty, and quite lovely.


Stop looking at my hair.

Stop laughing at my ridiculous model's pose.

If you want to see it in real life on the second generation, look at my oldest son. Just never tell him that I said that the nose looked feminine because as we all know, his looks strong, virile, and down right macho.

When I was the young age of maybe 12, I decided that it would be a real hoot to scare my younger sister. I knew that she would have to go in our bedroom at some point, so I hid in our built-in laundry hamper. It was in the attached bathroom and was very large - similar to bathroom cabinets but taller. It was beautiful bathroom. Very lavish for a 12 year old girl. So was the house...I coveteth it. The size of the cabinet was very important because I had to be able to sit inside comfortably. I am sure that the dirty clothes aided in my tush's comfort.

*Note - Comfort is key when trying to scare someone...you never know how long you might need to wait.

When my sister finally came into the bathroom, I had to hold my breath to muffle my laughter. I was delirious with anticipation. I could see her through the tiny cracks of the cabinet doors and when she had finally walked in front of my hiding place, I knew my moment had arrived.

Three, two, one: BAM!!!

Her scream mingled with mine, but mine went from a "Raaaaaaaar" to a pained "Eeeaaaaaahhhhh!!!". I had forgotten that a wooden bar went horizontally in front of my face and I had smashed my nose full force into it. I came out of the hamper with blood streaming down 1/2 of my face and my eyes were throbbing and tearing. I was crying and bleeding and trying to see myself through my tears in the mirror. But...

Man! I sure got her.

All in the name of a good scare. I owned that thing!

Anyway, the next day, my eyes were a tad on the dark side and my nose was super sore. Looking back on my life, I have to give this experience the credit it deserves. I now have a crooked nose, complete with a bump in the middle. I claim it was my free nose job. It gives a whole new meaning to 'You get what you pay for'.

I am not self conscious about much. Heck, you can tell from all of my dignity lacking previous posts. I am only bashful about two little things. My eagle-beaked nose and my singing voice.

Ah, my voice. Now there's a story for another day. Can you believe that it actually has a story? How many people can say that about their singing voice?

I have always been touchy about the shape of my nose.

However, I am an adult now. I have since outgrown any type of embarrassment or sensitivity to my profile. Having said that, a few days ago, Scotty was waiting as patiently as any 6 year old can to have his turn on the computer. (I had it first!)

Anyway, he was watching me do my thang on the computer when he started rubbing his finger on my cheek, ear, and then my nose. As he did, he stopped halfway down my nose and said, "Mommy, you have a witch nose."

Thank you, Scotty.

The moral of this story? I loved that house.