On a trip to Mali many years ago, I saw barbers on the street with mirrors attached to one tree and signs with numbered, sketched heads and hairstyles attached to another. You ordered your cut by number, sat in the kitchen chair between the two trees and left looking just like the sketch on the cardboard sign.
I'm not really sure what's involved for an Italian nose job, but I have a feeling the selection process might be similar; perhaps with a photoshop advantage. You pick nose number three and they print it on your photo while you wait. If it's not the nose you were looking for you, you pick a new number and try again.
Like snowflakes, no two faces are alike. Your small lips are your small lips. And your big nose is your big nose. Your wrinkles were formed along the way with too much laughing or crying or too many days on the slopes or at the sea (or both). In the end, your life is what makes you unique.
That's why I have a (high cheek) bone to pick with a cosmetic surgery clinic whose brochure boasts:
Tailor-made beauty. Enhance your uniqueness with the art of cosmetic surgery.
Won't cosmetic surgery kill your uniqueness? There's nothing special about nose number nine. Someone else could have ordered the same one yesterday. And that porcelain doll skin doesn't represent your unique past. So, I've decided to rent a billboard outside the clinic. It's going to say:
Your beauty was tailor-made. Enhance your uniqueness with the art of living.
(For my sensitive readers....I'm not opposed to incision decisions; only this clinic's marketing madness.)
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