May 2, 2011 8:09 am

by Hilary FreemanLast updated at 8:30 AM on 2nd may 2011

This is the story of how I learned to love my nose. It is, therefore, a rather long — 2 in, to be precise — tale, although, thankfully, not a twisted one.

There have been times when I have despised my nose so much that I couldn’t bear even to look at it in the mirror and I have destroyed photographs that drew attention to it. But there have been times when I’ve appreciated its character-bestowing qualities.

My nose has always featured prominently in my life. With two large-nosed people as parents, I was destined for a big proboscis.

Ageing beautifully: having a strong nose has not stopped Barbra Streisand, left, or Sarah Jessica Parker being successful

My mother has a long, straight nose, with large nostrils. Dad’s is of average length, but rather bulbous. as a teenager, I often wondered why my parents couldn’t have been more considerate and chosen small-nosed partners, so that at least their offspring would have been in with a chance. I guess they had other, more selfish priorities.

Anyhow, whether the large-nose gene is the dominant one (as I suspect) or not, somehow I inherited the worst possible combination: a long, straight nose with a bulbous bit on the end.

I must have been about the age of seven when I became aware I didn’t — and never would — possess a sweet, little upturned nose like the girls in adverts, or those belonging to dolls. But it was only when, soon after this revelation, I was out on my bike one day and some other children shouted the words ‘Oi! Concorde!’ in my direction (it was the Seventies) that I learned that having a big nose could be perceived as something ugly.

And then I began to realise that, in fairy tales and films, beautiful princesses had barely-there noses, while people with big schnozzles were almost always playing the wicked and nasty characters.

Scary witches had big noses. So did Pinocchio, because he was a liar. Did people think I was a horrible, wicked person? Did I have a big nose because I’d told too many fibs?

I made a solemn promise that I’d never tell another lie, just in case it made my nose grow any larger. my plea obviously fell on deaf ears. Nature can be cruel and at puberty, my nose decided to stage a growth spurt in advance of the rest of my features.

Happy how she is: despite loathing her nose as she grew up, Hilary Freeman now wouldn’t change it

Even my father remarked on it during dinner one evening. ‘My,’ he said. ‘Your nose has grown big lately, hasn’t it?’

I was mortified. At just the time when I was beginning to notice boys, and wanting them to notice me, my nose was bursting hideously out of the centre of my face.

I took to wearing my hair in curtains across my face (it was the Eighties). Whenever I spoke to a boy, I cupped my nose in my palm so he couldn’t see my profile.

‘my date was unaware of my nose complex but I spent the evening with my hand cupped over my face’

Pathetically, my best friend and I used to spend hours comparing our noses in the mirror. ‘At least yours isn’t bent,’ she’d always say, bemoaning her misshapen beak. and I’d reply: ‘At least yours isn’t long and bulbous.’

It was our weekly mantra.

One Saturday evening, when I was 16, a friend came round to my house.

It was one of those awkward kind-of dates you have with male friends/would-be boyfriends at that age. and who knows what might have happened if he hadn’t chosen to bring round a video for us to watch that night.

His unwitting choice of film? Roxanne, the Steve Martin comedy version of the Cyrano de Bergerac story. for those of you who don’t know this tale, it’s about a man who has such a huge, ugly nose that he has to hire a better-looking man to woo the love of his life for him.

My ‘date’ was unaware of my nose complex. But, distraught, I spent the evening with my hand cupped over my face, certain he would at any moment notice the uncanny resemblance between my nose and Steve Martin’s ridiculous fake hooter.

Don’t hide away: You should be proud if you have unconventional features (posed by model)

My friend kept trying to sit closer to me on the sofa, so he could kiss me, but I couldn’t even look at him.

Feeling confused and rejected, he went home, and that was the end of our friendship.

If you’d offered me a nose job at 16, I’d have taken it.

A girl in my class at school — who had been burdened with a huge, hooked nose, which overshadowed her tiny, pretty face —did have a rhinoplasty during the holidays between lower and upper sixth form. 

Post operation, she returned a changed person: more confident, sweeter, happier.

I knew my nose wasn’t as bad as hers had been, but I was jealous. I couldn’t afford the procedure and my parents would never have allowed it.

As far as they were concerned, plastic surgery was for vain people who had more money than sense.

My nose’s importance had receded, if not, unfortunately, from my face, then from my life.

I still didn’t like my schnoz, but it had never stopped me finding love — I’ve been happily married for 12 years — making friends or getting a job.

I even started to make occasional TV appearances without shattering the nation’s screens. and if people commented on my appearance, they mentioned my eyes, or my hair, never my nose. Some kindly, deluded souls told me they didn’t think I had a big nose or, at least, they’d never noticed it until I pointed it out!

In an adult, 18,000 to 20,000 litres of air pass through the nose each day

My nose was part of me, the me I recognised in the mirror and who was making her place in the world.

as my self-esteem grew stronger, I started to believe that having a nose job could be detrimental to my sense of self, to my identity.

I feared looking in the mirror and not recognising the face that stared back at me. I’d grown up enough to realise that having a smaller nose wouldn’t make me happy.

I’d be the same person, only with a smaller nose. and logic decreed that if I was going to fix my nose, then I should probably get my other flaws dealt with, too, like my gappy teeth, my flabby bits . . . the list was endless. to what end? So that I met some arbitrary definition of perfection? who exactly was I trying to look like? A supermodel? Why?

My friend Rachel had plastic surgery to fix a prominent lower jaw and underbite, when she was 18. even though the operation was successful, it’s a decision that, at 34, she regrets.

Embarrassed: in the film Roxanne, Steve Martin’s big-nosed character gets a friend to woo the woman he loves because he hates how he looks

‘When I was 12, someone called me “bucket jaw” and, as I got older and became more aware of my looks, I began to notice other people didn’t have an underbite like me,’ she recalls.

‘I began to put my hand over my jaw when I was with friends or talking to strangers. Whenever I was feeling down, or vulnerable, I’d get self-conscious about it. The dentist made me aware that it was a flaw that could be fixed.’

Rachel’s parents didn’t encourage her to have the operation. and thinking it would be a simple procedure, without risk, she went for it.

‘Although I knew I’d be under general anaesthetic, no one had told me about the possible side-effects, namely that I could lose all sensation in my lower lip. I also wasn’t aware I would have to have drains inserted under my chin for several days. I found out only when I was in hospital, about to have surgery, and it was too late to back out.’

Thankfully, the operation went like a dream. ‘But afterwards, I was surprised by how different my face looked. It was much rounder and less of a heart shape. About six months after the operation, I remember thinking “My face doesn’t look right” and realising that’s what I would look like from then on. I wasn’t sure I liked it and I can’t say I felt more confident.’

IT’S IN THE GENES

The shape and size of your nose is inherited from your parents. Your nose is fully developed by the age of 16

With hindsight, Rachel says she thinks she put herself through an unnecessary procedure.

‘I went under anaesthetic for four hours, worried my parents sick and endured six months of swelling — for what? A rounder face which is no more attractive than the face I had before.

‘Interestingly, I notice I’m drawn to faces which are a bit more quirky, with strong jaws. I look at Sigourney Weaver and Keira Knightley, who have underbites like I used to have, and think the quirkiness adds to their sex appeal.’

Rachel adds: ‘I wish I could say to young girls considering surgery for a perceived flaw: “Think before changing your body. Give yourself a year or two and see if you can’t learn to live with it.” ’

It’s a message echoed by psychologist Linda Papadopoulos. ‘We need to learn to look at our faces, not with contempt, but with a sense of ownership,’ she says.

‘Many people think if they fix their nose, they fix their life, but there’s no evidence of that. You’d expect that after plastic surgery there would be a lift in self-esteem. in fact, research shows that any self-esteem boost is temporary. as soon as it goes, the patient feels they need to get something else altered.’

Linda says young women who want plastic surgery should be encouraged to delay their decision for as long as possible.

Cosmetic surgery: It’s not the shortcut to happiness many people believe is, say psychologists (posed by model)

‘Ideally, people who want cosmetic surgery would be treated like those who want sex change procedures and have to live as if they’ve had the operation for a while, so they know what it feels like. for example, want bigger breasts? Then you have to wear chicken fillets 24 hours a day for a year.’

I once saw a computer simulation of what I’d look like after a nose job. although my ‘new’ nose was smaller and more refined, it threw the rest of my face out of balance, making my cheeks look fatter and draining the character from my features.

I’ve got a face that people remember, an individual face. Why would I want to look blander?

Sophia Loren has a strong nose, as do Anjelica Huston, Sarah Jessica Parker and, of course, Barbra Streisand. they are all considered beautiful, if not conventionally so, and they are ageing well. and don’t forget that Nicole Kidman didn’t win an Oscar until she donned a large false nose to play Virginia Woolf.

A few weeks ago, I was waiting at a bus stop when a smartly dressed good-looking man in his 20s approached me. ‘Can I just say,’ he said, ‘you have the most beautiful, extraordinary nose I’ve ever seen,’ before reaching over to touch it.

Had I not been married and standing in the middle of London in rush hour, I would have gone for a drink with him there and then. Perhaps he has a nose fetish — and they do exist, I found a website — but his reaction to my nose was proof I needed that there is always somebody, somewhere, who will find your flaws beautiful. It wasn’t even the first time it’s happened to me.

So perhaps I was lying earlier when I said I’d grown to love my nose. I don’t love it, but I accept it. Which is good, because I certainly can’t forget about it. That’s the thing about having a big nose: whichever way you look, you can always see it out of the corner of your eye.

Names have been changed.

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