Essay On Personal Narrative-Septoplasty Surgery

It’s a scary thing to stand before a mirror and realize that the face you have known all your life is about to be altered permanently. It’s scarier to know that the situation is your own doing. I thought about this under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, which have always incited the scrutiny of my own appearance more savagely than anything else. In this moment, I was wrapped in the lavender felt of a hospital gown and sewn to the IV that would fill my veins with anaesthesia. I had gone into the bathroom before my surgery and while washing my hands, realized that, yes, this was the last time I would ever see my face as it was conceived, that the next time I would meet my own eyes they would be bruised. In all honesty, I had never liked my nose. It rested unevenly between my eyes and stretched downwards, hitting my upper lip in a thick arc. After getting hit by a swinging door I was left with two breaks and a caved-in nasal cavity. Septoplasty was urgent, but while discussing this surgery, the point of having rhinoplasty simultaneously was brought up. After spending years developing a dislike for my nose, I knew that I would like to have rhinoplasty, but seemed to be

In doing this, I thought about the women who influenced me -- Betty Friedan, Marge Piercy, Gloria Steinem, and my grandmother. All of these women are independent thinkers with varying views on plastic surgery, but who all agree that the cardinal rule of the women’s movement is that all people deserve the right to choose for themselves what they would like to do with themselves and their bodies. The second wave of feminism wasn’t just about equal rights. It was about choice. And with that reminder, I chose to do what I wanted, which was to undergo plastic surgery at the age of