Everyone has bad habits. I don't care who you are or where you're from (I totally just sang that in my best BSB voice), you have them. And if you don't think you do, ask anyone that knows you well and I guarantee that they can pull something out of their hat. Some people twirl their hair, others smoke. Lord knows I have a long list of bad habits that I don't foresee going anywhere, but the one I've had the most consistently and longest?
Nail-biting.
Yeah, yeah, I know its a disgusting habit that is not only annoying, but also unsanitary. And the fact that I take sometimes three showers a day, because I'm a bit of a hygiene freak and still have this gross habit doesn't make much sense.
I've always prided myself on being able to step away from bad things. Sure, I've tried things and some I've even done for awhile, but eventually I realize that this isn't what I want to do and I simply walk away. No ifs, ands, or buts. It's just always been that simple to me. A mind over matter kind of thing.
Now, I know this isn't that easy for many people, but I've just been fortunate enough in my life to be able to make a decision and once that decision is set, there's no going back. Call it the stubborn in me, but my personality is what it is and its not going anywhere. (And yes, I usually hate the saying "it is what it is" but the fact of the matter is, in this situation, it applies.)
But, nothing has ever broken me of the habit of nail-biting. I'm not sure when exactly it started, but Momma always told me she couldn't keep my fingers out of my mouth even as a baby, so I'm thinking it dates back a long ways. You would think something along the way would have stopped it. I've even semi-attempted it many times over the years.
I've tried it all. The polishes, the oils, the hot sauce. You know, all the things you're supposed to put on your nails to break the habit of biting? Yeah, I just ate through it all. I tried to get acrylic nails once and just ended up chewing them off while watching a movie that very same night like an angry honey badger. And the biggest thing that I did that should have most definitely changed my mind and ended the habit? I worked in a motherf*cking nursing home and assisted in wound care. I'm sorry, but if that doesn't break the habit all on its own, then you need to seriously apply yourself, because you have a problem.
And by you, I mean me.
My aunt once told me that it takes twenty-one days to break a habit. She said if I could just make it to twenty-one, then I was home free. I tried that countdown method too, but it didn't work. Instead, what broke my thirty-one year struggle?
My f*cking husband.
That's right, I said it. And you may be wondering how he broke me of this habit that has managed to stick with me longer than quite literally everything else in my life. Well, to be perfectly honest, he Jedi-mind tricked me. Oh yeah, straight up, 100%, Jedi'd the f*ck out of me.
How may you ask? A couple of weeks ago, we were laying in bed watching tv and D had his head on my belly and I was scratching and running my fingers through his hair (which he has since cut off). Out of the blue he sighed and said, "this feels nice.... you know what would make it feel even better?" I waited for him to continue and a few seconds later he followed it with, "if you didn't bite your nails they would be longer and then the scratching would feel ooohhhh ssssooooo gggoooooodddd." And then he kind of wiggled and snuggled more into me. I just chuckled at him and continued on for a little bit until we went to sleep. Never thought about it ever again. Or, never knew I was thinking about it at least.
Cut to a little over a week later and Dani mentioned that my nails were getting long, as she could hear them tapping on my keyboard. She asked if I was trying to grow them out and once I looked down I realized that I did in fact have long nails. Not crazy bitch nails, but legit fingernails. I tried to think of the last time that I had bit them, but I kept coming up blank. I truly hadn't even noticed that I had stopped or that they were there.
Blew. My. Mind.
I immediately called D out on his witchcraft and wizardry when we both had made it home from work, but he just looked down at me with those big ass baby blues of his that make me melt into a f*cking puddle and smiled that innocent little "you know and I know and I know that you know and you know that I know that you know" smile that he always has with me, kissed me on the forehead and went on his little merry way.
Twerp. He's lucky I love him.
And this isn't even the first time he's used his voodoo magic on me either. Did I ever tell you about the time that he traded me a penny for my hiccups and I immediately stopped f*cking hiccupping? No. Well.... another story for another day.
The point is, I married a MOTHERF*CKING WIZARD.
No wait, that wasn't supposed to be the point. The point was supposed to be that now my habit is essentially broken and I have to do shit like cut my nails and file them. Like, what? This is some adult lady shit and I am not on board with it.
(And yes, I reserve the right to call my husband a Jedi, wizard, sorcerer, and anything else that seems appropriate for my anxiety and jumbled word vomit filled thought process).
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