I have a totally gross disease

For a health counseling project, I have been documenting my lifelong relationship with nail biting (NB), also known as onychophagia. Now, I am giving myself an intervention, horrified at my inner monologues.

They run something like this: "I'm not hurting anyone," "It's just something I do," and "I can quit any time I want, like for weddings and fancy events."

Not only am I a junkie, my preferred drug -- fingernails -- is grosser and less hip than glue or crystal meth, Andre Agassi's drug of choice.

In short (no pun intended), I am completely alone in conquering my body-focused repetive behavior. NB is completely unsupported by the media; there are no subway ads presenting the multi-cultural faces of onychophagia; and there are no celebrity NB golf events. My disease has no Mary Tyler Moore, awareness week, support group, or After School Special.

No one else gives a flying crap that my saliva probably contains dangerous levels of enterbacteria. No one else gives crap that NB is underresearched and more likely to reflect childhood NB rather than adult NB. No one cares because all the time and attention goes to swine flu vacccines and fat people. Trust me, I'm more dangerous.

In one study, researchers at Atatürk University in Turkey (Turkey, mind you) collected saliva from 25 nail-biting children and 34 non-nail-biters. E. coli, Enterobacter aerogenes, Enterobacter cloacae and Enterobacter gergoviae were found in 76% of the nail biters versus 26.5% of the non-nail biters. Gross.

Finally, my innocent little habit is in the same family as skin biting and hair pulling, also known as trichotillomania. In rare cases of trichotillomania, people die from eating their own hair, also known as Rapunzel Syndrome.

Thus my reasons for intervention. Although my cause has no ribbon or Oprah show, I alone try one of nail biting's most successful cures: habit reversal training. Instead of biting my nails, I will drink a glass of water.

Put that in your mouth and chew it.