Did you bite your nails as a kid? I did. I can’t remember how it started, but it was fairly innocent at the beginning. A bite here, a nibble there, and before I knew it, my nails had become a sight to behold. My parents noticed and tried to help me break my bad habit; scolding me when they’d catch me doing it and lecturing me about the bacteria crawling around on my fingers. Nothing worked. I had simply learned to refrain from it in front of others, so as one might expect, I was still at it fifteen years later.

By this time, of course, I had grown up and become an adult. Appearances don’t really matter when you’re a kid; you can have marker all over your hands and dirt under your fingernails and no one will bat an eye. When you’re an adult, however, bitten cuticles can be the source of constant shame and discomfort. I have never had a manicure. I don’t like handshakes or signing papers or trying on jewelry. Eventually I knew something had to give, so at 25, I finally decided to kick my lousy habit.

It was hard at first. This had been my source of comfort for fifteen years and felt as natural as scratching an itch. I stayed with it though, and within about a month, it got easier. It wasn’t my source of relief anymore and I had a newfound motivation to deal with it and forget about it. Except I couldn’t.

I couldn’t forget, you see, because my nails looked exactly the same as they had before. It made no sense, as I hadn’t succumbed to my nail-biting practice for over a month. My doctor said there was a possibility I was biting them subconsciously in my sleep. He suggested using a camcorder to monitor my nightly movements and I had bought one after the appointment.

I wondered what measures I’d have to take if the doctor’s theory proved true. Would I have to sleep with gloves on or put tape around my fingers?

I played the recording back this morning and well, the doctor was spot on.

Except I don’t think tape or gloves will be at all useful in helping me break the habit.

See, it’s not my habit.