Did you hear? A new study links nose picking to Alzheimer’s. 9 out of 10 people pick yet 9 out of 10 people do not get the disease, thankfully. There isn’t an explanation for this statistic, yet the study is real. I know Alzheimer’s is nothing to laugh at, but I had to giggle at the study title then race over to Jeffrey in the family room to discuss.
Me—Honey, we need to stop picking.
Jeff—I don’t pick my nose.
Me—Yes, you do. We both do.
Me—When we’re watching TV.
Jeff—It’s dry in here. Forced air.
There’s always an excuse for nose pickers. I know them all. It’s dry outside, it’s dry inside, I have allergies, It’s dusty, There’s dog dander, I don’t do it in public, I sneezed, Tomatoes tickle my nostrils, It’s 4:30, I’m bored, etc.
It’s cute when little kids pick their little noses, especially during the school play. All the parents say, “Oh, look, little Jimmy is hunting boogies.” Preschoolers are so innocent. They don’t know yet that it’s disgusting.
Why are adults different? Bigger boogers? Why is it an untenable habit for other people but okay for me? We all know it’s gross, yet we do it. I can hear you groan, dear reader. If you tell me, you’re not a picker I will not believe you. Maybe you are that 1%. (Or is it 10%? 9 out of 10 means 1%, right? Hubby said 10%. Anywho…) And if you’re not a gold digger, how? Why? There’s a particular joy when the tissue and the blow will not rid you of that itch, but your finger will. What do you do with it after? I try to wrap it up in a tissue, but if I’m engrossed in a TV show, a book or a Substack article, a flick will do. Do you ever look at it after?
I’ve had an acupuncturist ask me about the color of my stool but never about the tone of my boogers. I guess nostril detritus doesn’t represent my health status.
There are seven holes into our heads. Two for viewing, two for hearing—and cleaning, hopefully, one for eating (and kissing and other fun stuff…) and two for picking, maybe sniffing, definitely for breathing. These seven holes serve their grand purposes. G-d did a great job creating humans. He probably understands the need to yank out the underwear from a wedgy, but nose picking?
Here’s the official job of the nose: (Not to be confused with “nose job.”)
“…Serves both as the organ of smell and as a means of bringing air into the lungs. Air breathed in through the nose is warmed, filtered, and humidified; that breathed through the mouth is not.” (Thank you, Free Dictionary) Of course Jeffrey had to comment, “Your mouth is definitely not filtered.” Well, fuck that shit.
My deduction and excuse—the nose is a forced air vent and because humans don’t come with replaceable air filters the finger is required.
However, after reading this scientific study, and that the bacteria on our finger can reach the brain, I’m reconsidering the pick. I need to not only have a travel Purell in my purse but on my person too. I must pull out a bottle from my bra and lather up before I pluck. But will Purell kill the specified Alzheimer’s inducing bacteria?
Maybe I should just quit picking my nose altogether. (All of us together =altogether. We can do it!) I can start a movement, a hashtag, #renouncepicking. I know. It’s addictive. If I were to join NPA (Nose pickers anonymous) here’s how that would go...
Me-- Hello, I’m Carissa and I’m a nose picker.
NPA Group-- Hello, Carissa.
Me-- I’ve been clean one week. My manicurist was pleased but I gained twelve pounds. My fingers went to the fridge instead of my nose. It’s been a challenge because my friends are all pickers so there’s not a lot of support. When we go out on the town, I’m the only one not picking. They’re all having a great time, competing, comparing their collections, see who can flick the farthest. It’s all fun and games to them. I get lonely. And I really want to hide in the bathroom and gouge out my nostrils like an archeological dig. Well, that’s what finally happened. It was an all-night bender that forced me to quit. I binged The Mayor of Kingstown. Have you seen this TV show? It’s so stressful I can’t sleep, I can’t brush my teeth…
NPA Group would nod in agreement. They would know that stress can drive one to a binge—and not the television kind. A binge of the nostrils. Even the celebrities in the group would know what I was talking about. I wouldn’t be allowed to say which celebrities. We would swear an oath to keep the members anonymous. But I would embed the name here—EBRADOPITT.
Nose pickers can’t be trusted when it comes to famous people who also pick. Us nobodies want to feel that community. If a celebrity picks that means, it’s okay for me to pick. But really, anyone of us can pick a nose picker in a lineup. We all have on our nose-dars 24/7.
Me—After binging four episodes I hid in the bathroom and went spelunking. All night. My obsession was a relief. But in the morning, I had a terrible nose-over. I was bleeding. I think I enlarged my nostrils, permanent damage. My husband didn’t recognize me. He told me to get help especially before I hurt someone. I mean, what if a cop pulled me over while I was digging? That’s when I knew I needed help.
NPA Person—What about your husband? Why isn’t he here?
Me—He’s a casual nose picker. He can control the gorging. I have a real problem. An addiction.
After the meeting I would be matched with a mentor. Probably Kim Kardashian—someone who had major plastic surgery. She once had a Jimmy Durante facial protrusion as a result of her addiction, but a rhinoplasty hid her secret. And now she’s a lifetime member of NPA.
Back to Jeffrey
Me—Let’s just point it out to each other when we’re doing it. Not with our index finger.
Jeff—But sometimes it’s really dry and blowing won’t do the job.
Me—I know. I know. It’s a sad truth.
Pick an article not your nose:
Moral? Always wash your hands. And always remember-- you can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose. (That was hilarious in High School.)
1. Are you a proud picker?
2. What do you think of this scientific news?
3. Which celebrity do you know in your heart picks their nose?
Well we all do it, but certainly not in public like some people I know! I’d like to offer this particular person, an adult btw, a tissue. Is that ok? We honestly don’t think they even realize they’re doing it, because it’s ALL THE TIME! Input?
You are hilarious! I laughed throughout the post. I never told you but I used to hide my picks in your fluffy hair! Haha!