All day long I look at my nose. Except when my eyes are shut, my nose is right there, in the lower middle of my vision. My nose is always, without exception, in that one spot. While its size and shape have changed somewhat, this happened very gradually over a number of years, so I did not notice it.
I can see my nose with another one of my sensory organs: my eyes. I see my nose from a vantage point that no other person has. That’s because my eyes are situated behind my nose. I doubt anyone else could see my nose from that angle. Everyone I know sees my nose from the front.
Let’s be clear: I’ve seen lots of things, and a wide variety of them, too. But no matter what it is I’m looking at, my nose is there as well, even when what’s in front of me is sensitive or personal.
There are only two situations in which I can’t see my nose. The first I’ve already mentioned, and that’s when my eyes are closed. When that happens, noses are just about the last thing on my mind. Unless I’m dreaming about my nose, or wincing in pain after hurting my nose, I’m usually thinking about other stuff entirely.
The second time is when there’s something covering my nose. This rarely happens, but when it does, the absence of my nose is lowkey super stressful. They say during a panic attack you can start to calm yourself down by identifying five things around you. This helps, until I realize that one of those things isn’t my nose. Then the panic just starts up again.