A Victory Nearly 28 Years in the Making

I bite my fingernails. I have been doing it as long as I can remember. I don't just bite them, I also pick at them with my other fingers. Since I was a small child, my hands have looked shredded, beaten up, and raw.

When I had nothing left to pick at or bite, I started in on my toenails. Gross, yes I know, but I picked at them too. Not nearly to the extent of my hands, but a bad habit nonetheless.

I've never been able to stop. I don't know that its a nervous habit, or because I'm stressed, or if I have a manual fixation... maybe some of all of the above. My parents used to yell at me for it for years. When I was eight, they offered me a Nintendo NES system if I could show them a hand with five full fingernails. I managed to grow two. I got the NES anyway. I'm a brat.

My grandmother used to smack my hands every time she saw me biting or picking. I couldn't make myself stop, even though I knew she was disappointed in me.

About two weeks ago, I found a bottle of "nail strengthener" in a friend's medicine cabin. Clear nail polish essentially... not sure what makes it "strengthen" nails. So I used it... a couple more times later that week, reapplied the polish.

Last week, I removed the polish... I found myself rubbing the edges of my fingers, playing with the edge of the nails, snagging them on the seams of clothing and fabric.

Today, I clipped my nails... for the first time since I can remember. It may not last, I may start biting again this afternoon, but its a still a victory.