I have another confession to make. I’m nail biter. I’ve chewed on my fingers probably every day since I was born. I was never a ‘girly girl’ anyway but I certainly didn’t grow up to have pink sparkled fingernails or elegant French tips at my prom. Even during that cringe-worthy phase we all seem to have gone through in high school, no charcoal black paint saw my bitten stumps. Look away now if you don’t want to be repulsed.
This is what my hands looked like last week. Even I am ashamed to admit it. They were weak, ragged and bloody from where I had taken to gnawing while daydreaming. I’m not going to pretend that it didn’t bother me, but I had never had the will-power to stop. I had tried everything. However last week I was thrown in the deep-end by my mother, a regular salon-goer, who suggested that I make an appointment with a local beautician. Before I had even thought about what I was doing, the woman had grabbed my hands and said something about cuticles. I nodded along, trying very hard not to show that these little mitts were the same hands that I had been tucking into only the day before. But then the appointment was made. She was going to fix my nails. So I thought I might as well blog the experience.
After one hour in the beautician’s chair, I felt like a new person. There is no other way to put it, now that I can see how different my hands are I can’t believe how ugly they used to look before. Although I was embarrassed to stretch them across the table, she was so kind and friendly that I was instantly made to feel comfortable. We chatted away about life, work and nail care treatment and after choosing my gel colour (I opted for a very neutral colour that shows up purple in the picture!), I was amazed by the transformation. She had filed my nails to the same shapes, pushed all my cuticles back and buffed them.
There’s no denying that my hands have improved so much. It turns out normal fingers aren’t red at the ends, who’d have guessed it? In order to calm my swollen skin, she told me all about the wonders of coconut oil, and since then I have been rubbing the stuff into my fingertips religiously. It’s done wonders for my flaky, dry skin and the redness is starting to die down. I’m in shock. I’ve certainly never been a girly girl but at the same time I can appreciate just how glamorous my hands look now. Teenage me wouldn’t have recognised my hands.
I’ve still got a long way to go, but the pretty colours and my sense of achievement has caused me to stop biting or even picking at my fingers. Whenever I feel the urge, I whip out my little pot of coconut oil and rub it in instead. It’s the perfect distraction, and the smell of coconut is actually quite pleasing. I’m excited to go back for my next appointment in a few weeks… and maybe try a bolder colour!
Are you a nail-lover or a nail-biter?