It's been a month. I'm almost ok with letting other people look at my hands. They are also at the length where the corners are starting to stick out and they catch on the edges of things. At this point I should start carrying a nail file at all times, not because I want them to look pretty but because if the edges don't feel smooth, I'll bite them and then there'll be more raggedy bits and then it'll become compulsive and then they'll be gone.
Such is the nature of OCD. Fun times.
BUT I HAVE NAILS!
In other news, I wrote 1,000 words yesterday and now the essay is about state control of the private sphere and the way in which family law relating to ex nuptial births has been used to control women's sexuality.
Because, you know, where's the fun in picking a topic and sticking to it? Oh wait..