My two hands have strikingly different appearances. My right hand is pristine. It has an even, fair skin tone, with long, elegant fingers, and is aesthetically pleasing. My left hand has scaly, cracked knuckles, crooked fingers and random indentations. These differences result from many years of using my right hand to crack the knuckles of my left hand. 

Popping my knuckles has become part of my morning routine along with stretching, eating breakfast and brushing my teeth — if I don’t crack my knuckles, my left hand feels clumsy and numb (I’m right-handed so I’ve gotten used to using my right hand to crack my left hand). There’s nothing more refreshing than popping the air bubbles that have been culminating in your joints overnight. 

Plus, by treating my fingers as fidget toys, I’ve probably saved money I otherwise would have spent on PopIts, slime, fidget spinners, etc. 

But now there is a noticeable difference between my hands. Cracking my knuckles dried out the skin on my left hand and formed thin calluses under my thumb. At first, when I noticed the flaws on my left hand, I didn’t suspect the cause. However, when my knuckles started bleeding because they were too dry, I realized what was going on. 

At my annual checkup, the doctor recommended that I treat my knuckles with Aquaphor — an “advanced therapy for dry, cracked, or irritated skin” ointment. But that stuff was gross and oily — I quit using it after just one try.

 So for now, it’s just me battling against my bad habit of cracking my knuckles. Despite the ugly hand look, cracking my knuckles is especially effective for releasing all of the built-up tension from doing physics homework 30 minutes before it’s due and frantically highlighting English readings before class.

Nobody has ever told me the popping sound is annoying, but even if someone does, I am not sure I’ll be able to stop.