I am currently a nail biter.  It seems I’ve always been a nail biter, since I can remember my mom trying to get me to stop by applying some type of  icky tasting stuff to my nails.  It didn’t work, obviously.  Instead my need to comfort myself with doing this ritual triumphed over whatever the taste may have been.

There was a time of about two years though, when I was able to stop the nail biting. It took a lot of work and patience, and a touch of bribery. The bribe was that if I stopped biting my nails, I would be treated to a weekly manicure at my local Cincinnati salon, Mitchell’s. How could I turn down an opportunity like that? And so it went, me consciously noticing me putting my fingers in my mouth to gnaw aimlessly and then putting them back down, knowing I would get something nice out of it. There were times when after I noticed the fingers to mouth habit happening, I would grab the closest bottle of polish and immediately coat my nails. I couldn’t chew them if they were wet, and who wants polish all over their teeth?

In time though, I went back to the habit. It was an old familiar coping mechanism, and I was under a huge amount of stress. Instead of drinking or doing drugs, it was a much healthier way to deal with losing a home and becoming a single mom.

A few years ago I decided to grow my nails back again, but realized that I rely on the tips of my fingers for detailed work with my hands, especially knitting. Typing and knitting go much faster for me when I can rely on my touch senses, and there’s no chance of a nail inadvertently hitting the wrong button or snagging on delicate yarn.

For now, I still enjoy all of the fun nail colors, but I keep my nails at a length that allows me to feel productive. I might decide later on to grow them, and when I do, I’ll invite all of you fellow nail biters to join the challenge with me.