I freely admit to people that I have a disgusting habit.
I chew.
As can be expected of a chewer, I do chew on my nails. Its gross, its unbecoming of a lady to have nails down to the quick. It is not particularly attractive; although it is handy in terms of playing the guitar.
I also chew on bubble gum. I can’t get enough of gum balls in my life; I buy them in bulk and hide them away. When it comes time for me to study, I sit down with my gumballs and I begin. I must take two at a time, two of the same color, and chew them for about five minutes. I always have a paper towel handy so that I can spit out the flavorless ones and repeat the process. The people who have been subjected to the sight of me, hair tied to the top of my head, wearing my favorite sweats with a stack of nasty old chewed up gum balls beside me have nothing to express but pure horror.
I also chew on my hands. It is quite revolting and from time to time the skin surrounding my fingernails is actually open. It hurts a lot when I do this, because you can’t really avoid getting things into the open wounds, and sometimes things like dirt or pickle juice will work its wiley way in and make me feel like I have stuck my hand into a tub full of milk house acid.
The desire to chew often sneaks up on me. I’ll be sitting about, minding my own business, and a twitchy feeling will come over my jaw. Its like I can feel that the muscles in there are getting bored, they need to be working out and DOING SOMETHING to keep from atrophy. If only the muscles in my ass were as motivated as the muscles in my jaw, I would be a perfect specimen.
The easiest and most accessible thing to chew on is a lip or a hand. (My own lips or hands: When I get to the point that I need someone else’s lips or hands to chew on, I promise, I’ll go into voluntary lockup.)
I was at a social event today, observing the events around me and chewing on my thumb. The fmaily friend sitting beside me was watching me, twitching because I knew that he wanted nothing more than to grab my hand out form my mouth, shake me by my shoulders until I had a head rush, and scream “FOR THE LOVE OF JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH, STOP DOING THAT NOW.”
Instead he threatened me with gangrene, saying that I could actually lose a thumb to a ravenous infection of sorts.
“Hah,” I replied. “If you’re like me and you wash your hands thirty-two times a day, and you sing the entire alphabet song while you do it, your hands are home free from having infection ravage their open sores.”
Moral of the story: If you’re going to be a crazy person, you have to make sure that you have a touch of the OCD so that you can pre-empt any of the damage that might be done by your craziness.
Nail Biting, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Gum Balls, Gross Habits, Hand washing