Nail Biter

I was a nail biter for 25 years.  It wasn’t until I was in the midst of wedding planning that I finally manged to break the habit, largely because I realized that every in-law I hadn’t met would be asking to look at my hands on the big day, and the gnarled stumps I callmy finger tips wouldn’t do any justice to the rings my new husband had meticulously picked up.  And so I broke down, paid for a manicure and managed to avoid chewing on my own fingers for almost two years with only two exceptions; when I quit my old job and this week.

Do we see a pattern here?  Could it be that in times of stress or major change, I go for my nails like a type two diabetic to a pastry cart? 

Did you here that, small one?  If you don’t get this show on the road soon, your mom might not have any hands left to hold you with.

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