Mom always alerted us to her friend’s misfortunes after a facelift. A rarity at the time. Mom thought it was the best way to become a monster since having one’s skin pulled in the wrong direction led to keep submitting to the scalpel. I once met a girl at the Sporting Club who underwent a successful nose job. Much needed, some whispered. It certainly wasn’t as bad as Remedios Varo’s portrayal of a woman entering furtively a plastic surgeon’s clinic at dusk and trying to conceal a majestic proboscis under a thin veil. In those days, everyone envied Candice Bergen’s nose. We gossiped about a medical student who had hers done Bergen’s style. Being the Prime Minister’s daughter, she could afford the best surgeon. It seems that most starlets in the sixties had their features redesigned, and we loved unveiling secrets in celebrity magazines. I remember spending hours in front of the mirror as a teen, attempting to sculpt my body along imaginary lines. When I worked as a medical representative, I thought of having my nose done. During hospital calls, I consulted a plastic surgeon who said he liked my nose. Another one invited me to take photos in his clinic. I avoided them both. These two handsome men reconciled me with my looks.

Hedy Habra has authored four poetry collections, most recently, Or Did You Ever See the Other Side? (Press 53 2023). TheTaste of the Earthh won the Silver Nautilus Book Award and honorable Mention for the Eric Hoffer Book Award. Tea in Heliopolis won the Best Book Award and Under Brushstrokes was finalist for the International Book Award. Her story collection, Flying Carpets, won honorable mention for the Arab American Book Award. Habra is a twenty-one-time-nominee for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the net, and a recipient of the Nazim Hikmet Award.