i must go down to the sea again

I have fingernails.

Oh, really? How very nice for you. Next!

No, you don't understand, clearly. There are white-tipped nails at the ends of my fingers. There are white-tipped nails at the ends of ALL of my fingers. This is unusual. You're talking to someone who doesn't remember having to ever clip her fingernails.

What?! Everyone clips their nails! Oh, you mean a manicurist takes care of the nails.

No. No, that is not it at all. I've had the habit of biting my fingernails ever since I was young. On rare occasions, I'd take a break for a few days, throw some polish on them, make them look nice for some special event. Then, as soon as the event was done, the nails went, too. Not that I consciously bit my nails; if I was sitting still for any length of time, the nails were between my teeth, nibble, nibble.

Well, if you could stop for a special event, then you could have stopped any time. Why didn't you try some of those nasty tasting lotions to get you to stop for good?

Oh, I did try those "end nail biting forever" remedies, but you know what? They didn't work. I was never that serious about ending the habit, I would seek out the remedy to try to please someone else and end the nagging. Biting my nails was natural for me; stopping seemed perverse.

So, what's the deal now? Why have you stopped?

I don't know.

No, there must be some reason why you have deliberately stopped the habit after all these years. How long has it been now?

That's just it: I don't truly know. I recall noticing before my vacation that I had fingernails. Ever since - hm, March? April? - I had been applying some clear nail polish that I really liked. It's very shiny and looks perpetually wet and made me feel more "girly", even though I doubt anyone else took note. I even stopped picking on my cuticles so much, because I liked the way the polish looked and didn't want to detract from that shine at the ends of my fingers. Every couple of weeks, I'd notice a dull area between the base of the nails and the cuticles and would take a few minutes to remove the old polish and apply a fresh coat. I guess I didn't pay attention to what that gap in the shine meant.
I don't recall making a conscious decision to stop my nail biting. But perhaps my subconscious had made the decision for me and it simply has taken this long for me to stop and wonder about it.
Maybe the decision is a result of a new wave rising from the depths, a blip on my inner radar which could not be ignored, an image rousing me to take notice.
This change is good. Maybe a bit scary, too, but I'm going to see where this next adventure will take me.
After all, I have white-tipped fingernails now at the end of each of my fingers so a sea change has already begun...