Coming Clean About a Dirty Habit

Onychophagia! That's what they call it people - my dirty little habit. I am a self-confessed, chronic nail-biter and have been all my life! The stupid thing is, I've hated that fact all my life too. I think it's a dirty, ugly, unhygienic and generally revolting habit. I'm permanently embarrassed about my hands and their stubby, half-mangled fingertips, but I just can't seem to stop. I'm seriously considering hypnosis, I think it's going to be the only thing that will (hopefully) cure me once and for all. I've tried the yukky-tasting treatments, to no avail, and I've managed periods of abstinence where pride of having nice nails overwhelmed the subconscious obsession to gnaw them down to their usual torn-up mess.

I started biting them as a child at around 6 or 7 years old, probably due to emotional stress and anxiety - textbook psychological case study really. But here I am..... 30-ahem-something years later - still going hard at it! While I've definitely had periods in that time where I stopped completely, sometimes for months on end, I nevertheless seem to start up again eventually and, in the past 8 months or so it's been worse than ever. Not only do I chew my nails but I pick at the skin around the edges too, until my fingertips are sore and bleeding. It often hurts to get dressed, prepare food, scratch my skin (which is almost impossible when you have no nails), peeling an orange burns like hell and I've lost count of how many new stockings I've ruined simply trying to put them on. It takes me a while to undo knots and shoelaces, open envelopes, peel off price tags/labels, pick up a dropped coin (dimes and pennies are especially difficult). I'm always discreetly hiding my fingernails from view and I'm terribly embarrassed if I have to point to something on my computer screen - with my blobby, scabby finger and half-shredded nail remnants. Similarly, I'm horribly self-conscious holding a glass of wine, or pointing at something on the menu of a fancy restaurant. And, what's bugging me lately, is that I have a lot of jewellery, especially rings, that I like but am hesitant to wear for fear of drawing attention to my hands and their sad, beaten-up digits.

So without further ado, here are the offending items.

Not too bad here, you might think

But look! Urrgghhh - "you're a MONSTER!"

As a child my family teased me about my nail-biting, joking that they'd serve me up a pie baked full of finger and toe nails or that I could have nails on toast for dinner. (For the record, I have NEVER bitten or eaten my toe nails....even I have limits!) So I learnt to be discreet in my nail-biting so as not to get caught. Actually, when my younger brother, Graham, was a toddler I was determined to surreptitiously teach him to start biting his, that way I'd at least have a partner in crime and the onus would maybe even shift to him instead of me. Luckily for him though, he failed miserably.

With the exception of the past few years, I would never bite my nails if anyone else was around, I was just too mortified by how ugly it must (and does) look - especially as a grown woman, fingers halfway down my gob, chomping down with frenetic nervousness. Such as the woman in her 50s that I once witnessed devouring her fingers in the waiting room of the doctor's office. Admittedly she might have been anxiously anticipating test results or bad news, but witnessing that display, on a woman who seemed otherwise elegant and normal, shocked me - especially knowing that I must look just as ugly and repulsive when I do it. Not to mention that awful sound of someone literally crunching on their chewed naily bits. I personally hate that sound as much as I hate someone publicly clipping their nails (knowing they're pinging off all over the place...potentially landing in your food or hair etc.). But even that doesn't stop me, I just try not to do it within earshot of anyone else and hate it when Lorne sometimes catches me as I watch TV (when I do 80% of my chewing). I sometimes wonder if he's trying to discreetly turn away slightly so that (a) he can't hear me or (b) doesn't have to see me out the corner of his eye, contorting my fingers, hand and arm to get at every last remaining shred of nail that'll bug the hell out of me if I don't rip it out. (Now I see where the OCD element of the onychophagia definition comes in.)

On the whole, while my nails are pretty gross, especially at the moment, though they're still not quite as gnarly as some people's - such as this habitual nail-biter (and believe me, there are many, far uglier onychophagia photos where this one came from):

My nails often feel this sore, but
these are thankfully not mine.

This time last summer I actually had lovely, long nails - all beautifully shiny, healthy and painted. I was proud to show them off. For about 8 months I never touched them, not even to pick at or nibble. Quite possibly the longest I've ever gone without gnawing on them to some degree and that was despite the anxieties of losing my job and the whole breast cancer thing. Ironic, no?

The additional habit of picking the skin around my nails started quite a few years ago as a semi-subconscious attempt to avoid actually chewing my nails, only now I simply do both in hideous tandem until my fingers literally hurt - and bleed. It's not pretty, that's for sure.

I tried that nasty-tasting product, Stop 'n' Grow, years ago but the effect was minimal, it's bitter taste wasn't foul enough to deter me. But then, Buckley's cough medicine doesn't make me gag either, so maybe I just have tough taste buds. I've tried using clear nail polish but end up picking it off. I've made countless New Year's resolutions, promises to quit on my birthday or at lent or 'if I get that job offer' etc. etc. While I come across as confident, diligent and professional, I worry that revealing bitten nails at a job interview will give the impression of underlying nervousness, insecurity and lack of effectively handling stress.

It tastes bad......but just not bad enough.

I don't feel particularly stressed at the moment, though I also nibble/pick when I'm bored or deliberating and trying to put off doing something. Having to make a phonecall often has me picking at my nails beforehand, I'm not a huge fan of the phone, especially at work - a nervous disposition created perhaps from working at Intrawest when I first moved to Vancouver, where the Member Services position I was hired to do soon became much more of in-bound call centre job. Headset glued on 9-5 and enduring a relentless stream of phonecalls, often from extremely irate people calling too late to get the exact reservation they wanted. God I hated that job.

Of course it doesn't help any that I currently work with a young woman who has the most beautiful hands - and nails - that I have ever seen. No word of a lie, she literally could/should be a hand model. They're stunning, like a piece of art; long, slender, smooth, so incredibly feminine and elegant. Her nails are lovely - 100% real, flawlessly manicured and simply gorgeous, with or without nail polish - whereas mine look like I just tore down a brick wall with my bare hands. Being next to this colleague and her perfectly-porcelain hands is the nail-biter's equivalent of being the spotty, fat wallflower beside the glamorous Prom Queen. (Well, I suppose anyway, since we never actually did that whole Prom Queen thing back in England, but you get my point, right?)

And so, perhaps by admitting my shame somewhat, vaguely 'publicly' (if anyone actually reads this blog), I can push myself into giving up this yukky, ugly habit once again. Just 3 weeks to break a habit they say. And I'm seriously going to look into that hypnotherapy thing too, because if it cures me of my onychophagia, maybe it can do the same for my horrendous arachnophobia.