I compare this with my ability to destroy my body with junk. I load up on crisps, deep fried crap in all purpose flour, I consume everything that has the potential to clog my arteries by 27 and kill me. What's eerily similar between both these vices is the guilt that is constantly there. It doesn't emerge only when the act's done. It's constantly looming over my head. The obstinacy of doing the act is aggravated further when someone stops me from doing it. It's as if I'm taking my revenge, living my moment by chewing the skin, following by slivers of nails dangling off my pudgy fingers. My gut wrenches when I overload it with groundnut oil and the gunk cooked in it as it does after a healthy session of destroying my nails. Sometimes I chew and spit, other times I consume bits of skin when I chew it off my hand. It's a self defense mechanism that pulps out of my mind when I am most stressed or when I'm faced with an uncontrollable situation.

In the last six months or so, I've put on two (perhaps, more now) kilos and started chewing nails again. One innocent gig lead me to cut my long, manicured nails and it's long gone now. My jaw line is overloaded with meat and fingers short of nails. If anyone needs psychiatric help, it's perhaps me. 

This trying to not put on weight by following a diet regime and work out is as successful as my abstinence from my finger nails for two hours when my hands are occupied typing, texting etc. The more time in hand that I have, the lesser would be the size of my fingernails, which is the reverse of taking attention away. The minute I feel situation is out of control, I can't help anyone or myself, the instant reaction is to start rubbing my finger nails against each other, in eternal hope of finding a nail scraping. From thereon, it's akin to smoking up. You can hurt yourself and that'd be pushing your fingers to perform better next time. The diet plans and work out never worked because somewhere at the back of my mind, this is what I wanted to do. The hunger pangs are usually taken care by the only outlet that would deliver (come hay, sun etc) and I don't mind paying rs 100 as taxes at McDonald's which means a lot of drop offs at home or whenever I am out and can afford. This junk loading is my body's reaction to hide myself from all the problems buried. Joblessness, lack of plans et al. Nothing short of shaking your mad confidence.

I'd like to conquer both these vices, someday. Before I forget, I also want to sit on a chopper and go to Ethiopia. I've heard it's great.