Nail Biting

Ever since I can remember, I bit my fingernails. I tried everything to stop but couldn’t. When I was still a child, my parents put something called Thum on my fingers. Not only did it burn my mouth, but it got into my eyes. At times, my nails were so bitten down that my fingers would bleed. In church, if I put my hands up on the ledge of the seatback, I would fold my fingers under so that no one could see them. At times, I managed to tough it out so that my nails became halfway respectable, but I always ended up chewing on them again. I managed to go to my wedding with respectable nails, but they didn’t last through the honeymoon. On a trip, they would become nubs. On one trip with my family, I wore rubber gloves. It worked, but the nyerk nyerk sound caused by the gloves on the steering wheel drove everyone crazy. Last year, I had over $10,000 worth of dental work done. I ended up with a partial on the bottom and a permanent bridge on the top. I’ve tried, but guess what — I can’t bite my nails. It just doesn’t work. These teeth don’t meet the way my real teeth did. I’m not sure I would have spent that much money just to stop biting my nails. The rubber gloves were certainly less expensive.


About bobosbest

I am an 80-year-old retired English teacher whose writing goals are fulfilled by publishing these blogs. I have a wonderful married partner, Dimitris Tsitsiras, who is from Greece. Life is good and still an adventure.
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