From the time I first trained myself to look at the mirror and see my flaws before my beauty marks, I entered into a self-hating, egotistical relationship with my nose. It’s a detestation that Radhika Sanghani, originator of the #sideprofileselfie, and Tyra Banks, who has recently outed herself as an ex cosmetic rhinoplasty patient, are well familiar with. 

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Feeding the obsession, one put-down at a time.

I was about 10 or 11 when the ritual began. Rushing home from school, I’d stare back at the mirror and scrutinize every unconventional trait I owned. Poring over my evolving pubertal countenance, I would curse my chunky nose and lament every other facial feature that set me apart from the flock, from my chicken pox scars to my naturally deep dimples and librarian spinster-type glasses. I, a voracious reader with decidedly singular, old-school interests, was already different from my peers, but I longed to fit in — even if only on a superficial level. 

(And, I know, hating on dimples? Crazy. I hated them so much that they responded on a molecular level and disappeared almost entirely from my right cheek, or at least that’s what I tell myself when I want to snap out of a particularly self-deprecating mood.)

From ages 12 to 14, the insecurities grew into a full-blown obsession. Nobody could take a profile shot of me; I’d get furious, steaming inwardly at the thought of there being photographic proof of my pre-surgically altered face. I dreamed of rhinoplasty alongside LASIK eye surgery and, like the image-obsessed, horribly insecure Georgia Nicolson from Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging, I’d take it upon myself to self-correct myself as much as possible before then. Vaseline on the eyelashes, Colgate on the zits, and natural home remedies by the dozen.