She Cut Me Off! A Eulogy Written by My Old Nose, After My Nose Job.

As I lay on the cold, unforgiving surface of a surgeon’s dish, I reminisce on my life. Twenty two years. Twenty two YEARS I gave to that ungrateful hussy. I gave her smell, I gave her beauty, I gave her three sinus infections a year- give give give! That’s all I ever did for her. I gave. And what does she give me in gratitude to my services? She gives me the KNIFE! Cuts me off, like some toe wart. Throws me right in the trash! Can you believe the indecency of it all? I thought our years together meant something. Turns out, not a tear will be shed in my absence. That selfish shrew won’t be writing a eulogy for me, so it seems I will have to you-logize myself. Welcome to my me-logy.

 

If one is to traverse back in time, you would find a very small me, attached to a wobbly, adorable little girl. And what made her so adorable, you ask? Well I did, of course. We discovered the world together, trying disgusting and delicious new foods – green types in the first category, and high-fructose corn syrup-based in the later. Who do you think guided her taste-buds into helping her realize that ketchup was the predominant food group necessary for her health?! She wouldn’t still be here today if it weren’t for me.

And when her sight began to wane, who supported those god-awful lenses on my beautiful bridge for YEARS? She wouldn’t have been able to see a thing if I hadn’t put up with the gaudy shades of blue and purple frames ruining my handsome aesthetic. I donned them like a knight’s armor during the *many* times I protected her from the frequent stray sports-ball smashing into her face.

As she grew and became hairier and hornier, I was the first to tell her that her armpits smelled something awful! She would never have had her first kiss with Andrew B. at the eighth grade graduation if I hadn’t guided her towards a botanic deodorant. And speaking of that boy, who would have stopped his presumptuous, repulsive tongue from ruining their kiss if I hadn’t rammed myself into his nose, preventing that disaster? His nose was rather rude, by the way. Told me I shouldn’t be so large if I wanted to avoid future collisions! The nerve of that schnoz! Do you see what I’ve had to put up with?! I’m not large, I’m Roman!

She even BROKE me one time, did she tell you that, surgeon man? Of course she didn’t! Naturally, I put up with the occasional bump here and there as she reached adulthood – I had come to terms with the unfortunate truth that she wasn’t going to get any more graceful as she matured. But one night, in a drunken stupor, she waltzed straight into a glass door thinking it was open, that ninny! Oh I was bruised for weeks! And what did she do? She ignored my blossoming plum tones and continued to drink like a fish!

If I may speak plainly, our relationship has been in a decline for years. I haven’t grown to like her any more than she has grown to like me! She’s a loud, self-indulgent people-pleaser who has no respect for the generations of strong, Italian blood that runs through my veins. And now I lay here, perishing from neglect, realizing that she never deserved me. As I end this me-logy and drift towards the great sinus in the sky, I have only one parting wish – that she’s happy with the malnourished, vapid floozy the surgeon stuffed between her eyes. They deserve each other.