Day 52 of The Shoe Challenge – Pardon me while I [INSERT FIB HERE] in Pinkus Heels

Self Injurious Behaviors (SIBs) are ways that 4% to 38% of the population (including me) use to relieve symptoms of tension, stress and depression.

Not only do I indulge in SIBs, I also  like to spread the love to my family members, which would I guess turn them into  Family Injurious Behaviours (FIBs).

Here are some of my all time fave FIBs :

1.   Biting My Nails

There really is nothing worse than watching someone biting their nails while speaking to you is there?  I know because occasionally when I am stressed or bored I do it to people and I can see them trying not to look.  The slurping crunch issuing forth from a seasoned nail biter is quite off-putting enough without adding the Nibble Grab & Wrench Manoevre. The NGWM starts of with a tentative chew at a nail corner followed by a  half-crescent of nail being peeled off. Without scissors you then have to rip the whole nail off, but slowly just in case blood spurts everywhere. People tend to faint around you when that happens.

2.  Pick Scalps (mine or a passing child’s)

Blame my mum for this.  There must have been a lot of nits around when we were children because whenever we sat down anywhere near my mum she’d be scraping through our scalps for loose skin like a baboon sham-louse picking. Disgusting though it may sound, having my mum comb through my hair with her nails was actually quite soothing.  When the Minx was born she had a satisfyingly flakey case of cradle cap. I would rub almond oil on her scalp and slowly & painstakingly rub and scour it off with my nails. It helped to get her to sleep in the early days, I’ll wager.  Plus the fact that I told myself while I was doing it that no-one would ever call my little girl a scaffy heided wean.

3.  Squeezing or using implements to remove blackheads/whiteheads

Have you ever seen the You Tube video entitled The Most Disgusting Spot Squeeze Ever?

If you haven’t and you, like me, are a practitioner of the ancient and pleasing art of pus removal you will not blink an eye.  You might even wonder to yourself whether it is a set up. Anyone else who does not share our particular perverse pleasure would be wise to avoid either watching it or eating yoghurt/custard for a while.

Just about everyone in my family has been squozen, even the children when they were newborns.

I managed to restrain myself from attacking my husband for at least two months when I started going out with him.  Then he got the flu and he was at my mercy.  After the first time he weakly asked me “Now that we’ve done *that* I assume that it is ok for me to fart in front of you now?”

Please don’t squeeze the baby’s whiteheads” the midwife implored of me when the Noisy Boy was born. Sadly she was deaf to my pleas that I was unable to concentrate on breastfeeding while looking at a spot, whether on my baby or anyone else. I had to chew the inside of my mouth to stop all thoughts of squeezing while she was in the house.

Blackheads are another matter entirely. Despite being in the same skin eruption genus as spots, they are tricky little blighters.  Those sticky pore strips are a great idea in theory.

Biore Deep Pore Cleansing Strips aka Blackhead Tape

The only problem is that those wee strips, however, is that only the top half of the gunk that is blocking the pore is removed when you use them.

You then have to have a good dig around the site using one these :

or if all else fails, a couple of these:

Fingers

No matter which method of removal we choose, I and my fellow squeezers will never be happy unless and until the yellow-brown visible bit of the blackhead is followed by a long and preferably unbroken toothpaste like thread of sebum. Happy sigh.

4. Peeling Glue off my Palms (preferably with my teeth)

Imagine my delight when I discovered that there is a Facebook page dedicated to Peeling Glue off Your Palms. How good is this? Not as good as free shipping to Australia on Irregular Choice shoes, but nae bad.

While often unpleasant, occasionally extremely painful and always anti-social my bad habits do seem to have a soothing effect on me when I am anxious.  It would be better, of course, if I could do something a little less disgusting. Like doing a wee bit of meditation, romping through a few yoga asanas or perhaps getting a good old-fashioned massage.

Today as I write this post I am pleased to say that my feets and legs are feeling very tingly and relaxed and the rest of me very soothed due to an invigorating massage administered by the fabulous @princessnowhere. Just as well really because the shoes that I am wearing today feature some rather cruel acrylic stripes that give me terrible blisters.

Which brings me to one of my other favourite free safe for work pastimes – considering whether it is a good idea to pop my blisters or leave ’em alone….?

12 thoughts on “Day 52 of The Shoe Challenge – Pardon me while I [INSERT FIB HERE] in Pinkus Heels

  1. Oh that ‘biggest pimple’ thing on you tube surprisingly got to me, but only because I have a theory that it is a lipoma not a pimple – and it was all fat cells (DOC has one on his back too- they don’t generally do anything for it as it would leave a HUGE crater behind) weird though – as I’m usually okay with all of that kind of stuff…
    Oh – spray on bandaid peeling off is my new thing…
    pretty shoes though 🙂

    • Those deep black holes masquerading as possible blackheads are pretty foul too. As are those in-grown hairs from waxing. I could go on but I am trying to leave my anxiety behaviours to the one side in case I start to lose readers.

  2. My mum is a squeezer & nail biter. I scratch my head til it bleeds. Thanks fir this expose of nervous behaviour… Now everyone be honest!

  3. i love squeezing spots and blackheads – partner has oily skin and gets lovely ones. *happy sigh* I took up nail biting briefly because all my friends did it. Now i carry an nail-file and cutters everywhere, in case i bust a nail, so i’m not tempted to bite and tear. In a pinch, i’ll file a nail on a brick or stone.

    Most nauseating personal habit i’ve ever seen on a woman was a +50 y o who picked the corners of her eyes, and then ate it. I said i presumed she didn’t realise she was doing it, and asked her to please stop (at least while i was in the room) and she kept on. I had to avoid her.

    Worst on a man was an ex, who used to blow his nose in the sink and then not make sure it was rinsed out. One time i picked up a facecloth, wiped my face, and discovered i’d just plastered his snot all over me. *gags at the memory*

    I just watched The Most Disgusting Spot Squeeze Ever? on YouTube – nice! Looked like an excellent one :)) My cats were prone to abscesses, now that’s bad, lol.

    • Ah, you see how much we have in common? My Mother-In-Law (rest her soul) had several of those big, deep blackheads along her cheek bones. I couldn’t look away from them when I was talking to her. Every time I visited I would have to sit on my hands for fear that they would take on a life of their own & move in for the kill. One of my all time favourite sounds is that almost silent *POP* that accompanies a particularly successful spot squeeze.

      Picking the corners of eyes & eating it is like picking your nose & eating it. If you do it, fair enough, but please keep it away from other people. On a scale of 1 to 10 with nail biting at 2, I would say that is at least an 8. Anything over a 3 is probably not publicly acceptable.

      The nose blow guy reminds me of listening to gentlemen using neti pots in Sri Lanka. No doubt it makes them feel good but the expulsion of bodily fluids in that cubic capacity is a private pleasure.

  4. My Dad was a squeezer. No blackhead was safe from him. I swear, the man could spot them a mile away, and seemed to be personally affronted by them. I have to share one of his methods of extraction that you missed, the common household safety pin. Use the opposite end from the closure end, apply to said spot, and add pressure. It’s slightly barbaric, but it seemed to satisfy his blood lust.

    My Mom was a hair comber-througher. I would lie down with my head in her lap and she would run her fingers through my hair for hours. I have no idea if she was actively pursuing anything in my hair, but neither did I care. It was lovely and relaxing, and that’s about all I did care about.

    Now, while my husband is more than happy to don the mantle and take over where my Dad left off, I have yet to convince him that I would infinitely prefer having someone perform my Mother’s ministrations. It probably has something to do with the instant gratification of a good squeeze over the more zen appreciation of a relaxing head scratch.

    I have no desire to perform either task. The whole squeezey thing makes me shudder, and I’m too selfish to spend time leisurely running my fingers through my hubby’s rather-sparser-now-than-it-was-13-years-ago-when-we-first-started-dating hair. I have also never been a nail biter, nor a knuckle cracker. I have, in the past, enjoyed covering my palm with Elmer’s Glue, then slowly peeling it off when dried. It was always interesting to see how big a piece I could peel off without tearing it. Having said all that, there is one thing that I believe all us kids inherited from our Dad.

    We are all hair twirlers. I remember Dad used to sit on the floor watching TV, and he would twirl the same bit of hair between his pointer and middle finger for hours. I have watched my brother do it, and I know I do it. I will play with the same strand of hair, just twirling away, completely unaware of time passing. I don’t think the twirling compulsion is as strong in Fiona, although I have seen her do it. I think this may have to do with the fact that she inherited Dad’s squeezing obsession.

    The one nervous habit I have, which I only perform in the privacy of my own living room, preferably while watching a movie, is an almost obsessive need to braid my hair into thin semi-cornrows. If all goes well, I end up looking like Bo Derek in “10”. minus the hair beads and the rocking swimsuit body. The braids only last as long as the movie, then I make my hubby unbraid them all, as I have no patience with that end of the exercise. Left to myself, I would sleep in all those tiny braids, as I have done in the past, only to awaken to hair that looks like it was caught in a cheap 1980s hair crimper. Not a good look.

    Now, while I disagree with Mr. Eddie Murphy over the fart example (trust me, the LAST thing you want to smell on a crowded subway train is someone else’s gaseous eruptions) I will admit that I have been compulsively twirling my hair the entire time I’ve been writing this, and I feel much better for it.

  5. Compulsive hair plaiter (like little mini plaits, dreadlockish, done then undone and redone over and over). Chew the inside of my mouth til it bleeds.

    And I have chickenpox scars on my scalp that have never healed because I never stopped scratching them.

    Wow it feels good to know I’m not a disgusting freak. Or at least I’m in the e-company of equally disgusting freaks.

    Rest assured we are less gross than guys I knew who were obsessed with finding THE most disgusting thing on their bodies and competing in the public arena of their loungeroom. With people over. Toe jam won.

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