I’m sitting on the couch with Zoe the jack russell on my lap and we’re watching the Gourmet Farmer who is in France researching how to preserve meat in cans. It’s a relaxing Thursday night. So why am I biting my nails? As I gnaw at my fingers, the TV chef opens a can of paté and eats it with a fresh baguette. What a life. I can only dream of opening cans of paté with my bare hands like that; my bitten-down fingernails can’t get under the pull ring.

I also struggle to untie knots. Or peel the stickers off apples. But worse than those inconveniences is the pain and shame my lifelong habit causes. It stings when I bite my nails too much and I’m embarrassed by how short they are.

So I’ve decided to take control of my teeth and hands – slowly, over 66 days. That’s how long one study suggested it takes, on average, to form a habit.

I have my doubts that I can succeed, given the one time I previously tried I failed miserably: I was 10 years old and I applied that nasty-tasting nail polish but I just got used to the flavour and bit them anyway.

Dr Bianca Jupp, a neuroscientist at Monash University, says nail-biting is known as a body-focused repetitive behaviour, along with other repetitive self-grooming habits. It’s considered an obsessive-compulsive spectrum behaviour but is also related to impulse control.

“You might have automatic behaviour, where it happens subconsciously. You just find yourself with your hand in your mouth, biting your nail,” Jupp says. “The other side of the nail-biting coin is the deliberate act. You feel this urge, this tension rising, and the biting of the nail relieves that tension.”

This rings true for my habit. It’s often subconscious, or begins that way, but there’s also an urge or compulsion to keep going. Jupp talks about the brain’s “bottom-up” drive – the “reptilian” brain, which is impulsive, unthinking and plays a role in many habits. This is in contrast with the higher level top-down processing, which she calls the “boss brain”.

To break my habit, Jupp suggests I first recognise the triggers or situations where the biting occurs. For me this is often when I’m unwinding and alone, or feeling stressed. Then when the urge to bite arises, I should “engage the boss”.

“Make it goal-directed,” Jupp says. “It might be helpful to replace the behaviour with a different behaviour – such as putting your hands by your side or in a fist.”

My approach is fairly simple: I’ll go cold turkey. No nail polish this time, or gloves or chewing gum or other aides. Just good old-fashioned hubris.

Week one

I fail on day one.

I’m with my girlfriend, Anna, driving home from dinner when I realise I’m gnawing on my index finger. The next day I stumble too and it dawns on me how challenging this will be. I’m currently pet sitting for my sister, and so with two dogs and a cat under my domain it’s a lot to take on. But there’s never an ideal time to do something difficult, and I’m hardly saving lives here. I’m just trying to keep the pets happy and not bite my nails.

Week two

My nails are starting to grow and they feel strange to the touch, bigger and shinier. No real slip-ups since day two. I’m resisting. Still, I can’t take all the credit, as I realise this process would be harder if I wasn’t writing a story about it. So thank you for motivating me, everyone. Another thought I had this week: is biting my nails part of my identity? Am I being untrue to myself by stopping? I’ve done this all my life. Self-improvement is surely good, but might we lose something in the process? I move past this idea when I realise that biting your nails is not a personality trait.

Week three

I have Covid now. Got it from Mum, I think. But there is bigger news: I’ve been offered a new job and I’m pondering what to do. My nails are holding up and getting longer. I trimmed them with nail clippers, which was a novel thing for me. Other new experiences include scratching my head and struggling to type. My left ring finger feels awkward on the shift key because the nail gets in the way. Anna brought me some great things from the shops: mangoes, tomatoes, bread and cheese. My Covid symptoms are OK but I’ll need a post-Covid diet because I’m eating elaborate meals and not doing much else.

Week four

We have a problem. An insidious new habit is arising. I call it nail-biting lite: I do everything in the process except the final action. I put my fingernails to my teeth and press down, but I don’t quite bite through. The sensation is almost the same and I’m doing it all the time. I tell myself this is OK but I’m a fool.

Week five

I’m back from house-sitting and it’s nice to be home, where everything is where I expect it to be. The courtyard has been transformed by spring and everything is green. I spent three hours pulling out weeds while listening to a podcast about the 1962 Alcatraz prison escape. This week I also suffered what felt like another setback with my nails. As I grappled with the urge to bite them, I started cutting them with clippers and I couldn’t stop. I clipped them all down as far as I could, destroying weeks of growth. It was cathartic. Not technically biting, but yikes. The clippers are going back to the bathroom cupboard.

Week six

I resigned from my job this week and it has been an emotional time: sad to say goodbye, but excited for a new challenge. It feels like the habit-changing project has taken a back seat in my mind. Life gets busy and you have competing priorities and some can fall by the wayside.

I’ve picked a nail here and there and I’m still doing the nail-biting lite thing. I’m going down the coast to Sandy Point this weekend with Anna and the dogs so hopefully that does me good.

Week seven

We celebrated Zoe’s first birthday and I got her two soft toys and some pig’s ears (she preferred the pig’s ears). Lately I’ve become quite obsessed with growing my nails longer and this is really motivating me. They’re getting so strong and handy. This week I untied a tight knot in a shoelace with my bare hands. In the past I might have used a fork. Now my fingers are forks!

It’s also nice not to be embarrassed about my formerly hideous fingernails. Then again, that embarrassment might have been misplaced. At dinner with my family I told them about my project. They were impressed with how I was going but some of them said they didn’t even realise I bit my nails. This shocked me. Perhaps I was good at hiding it, or they don’t pay attention to me as the middle child. More likely it’s that people don’t really care.

Week eight

I finished up at work this week and I received many messages, calls and emails: goodbyes, good luck, we’ll miss you (of course). I really appreciated that. I hope I’m doing the right thing. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. But I’ve landed on a good routine when it comes to my nails. When I feel the urge to bite I now link my hands together on my lap for a moment. I ain’t biting, baby. What a transformation.

The end

I’ve come to the end and I’m sure you’re tired of reading about my nails by now. At the beginning I doubted I could shake the habit. But I could, so I’m proud of myself.

I’ve come out the other side a slightly wiser, slightly more dexterous person. I feel calmer too, which is unexpected. I had thought this habit helped to relieve tension and bring me calm. As it turns out, it did the opposite: it was just annoying, an endless itch; an unnecessary task that gave me nothing back. Now I don’t have to think about it. Now Zoe and I can watch the Gourmet Farmer in peace.