picking my noseShow most recent or highest rated first. Common beliefs in this section include:
I sed to believe that if I picked my nose, it would grow as big as a potato. That's what my grandmother used to tell me!
When i was little i thought that picking my nose and placing it somewhere would mean that the little people living inmy house would have something to eat!
I used to spend a heck of a lot of time wondering whether it was just in my country or all over the world that people get "boogers" in their noses.
My dad's uncle lost the top part of his index finger in an accident years back, right below the first knuckle. He used to tell my sister and I that if we kept picking our noses, our fingers would rot off - his finger was the proof.
Needless to say, we stopped picking our noses.
When I was little prob in elementary school i used to snort back my boogers...actually my brother did so as well...anyway, our baby sitter told us that evert time we snorted it back it was going up to our brain and eventually air wouldnt be able to get to the brain anymore
when I was little I used to eat my boogies so my mum told be that I would grow a boogie tree and I would have to go to the doctors to get it removed
This may not be a belief, and yet at the same time almost a third of this site seems to be devoted to bad parenting, so this fits well.
To this day, I have a tendency to pick my nose and eat the boogers. I've learnt to do it in secret now, because my parents were complete jerks about it. Yes, my own parents would always tease me about it.
They would ask me questions like "are you digging for gold in there, or diamonds?" They also said other things, but I forget what they were. I never actually believed there were precious minerals in my nose, but they did hurt my feelings.
My mum always told me not to pick my nose and eat it because spiders would grow in my tummy......
When I was young, every time my mom caught me picking my nose she would threaten to send me off to live on a pig farm. One time, after wiping a booger on the couch, she picked up the phone and faked a phone call to Farmer Brown. I was mortified for the next hour, as I awaited Farmer Brown to come and take me away. Thank God he never showed up :-)
when I was a small girl, I had the bad habit of picking my nose. I simply detested having bogeys in my nose, so I'd always pick them out. My mother, quite horrified at this once snapped at me: if you keep picking your nose, your nostrils will stretch and become huge. look what you have done to them already! I instantly stopped, terrified. I have big nostrils, was it my own fault?
My Gran told me that if I picked my nose, IŽd get brain cancer. Traumatised? Yes I was!
when i was little i picked my nose like any other normal child. my mom told me if i picked my nose i would have worms grow in my stomach. well. we went to montana to visit family and while i was picking my nose one day i turned to my aunt and loudly proclaimed "I have worms!"
I was told as a kid that if you picked your nose and ate it your skin would turn green.
I often wondered about the origins of the Incredible Hulk...
My mom told me if I kept picking my nose that my nostrils would stretch to the size of dinner plates. My older brother even drew a picture to back it up.
I asked my mother if picking my nose would make me sick. She replied, "Yes." Thinking I would be able to stay home from school, I picked my nose frequently.
I used to think that my boogers were a sentient race of virus beings that had learned to shrivel up in case of enemy attack, which explains why they didnt move when i picked them out. I thought it was very clever so every time i dug one out i would look straight at it with one eye and point at it with my finger and say, "im on to you!" i would then walk to a nearby bathroom and flick it in the toilet. As you probably guessed, I read a lot of science fiction novels back then...
My late granda only had half a ring finger on his left hand. I once asked how he'd lost his finger. Granda told me that it happened cos he picked nose so much, so it would happen to me someday.
So, Christmas 2005, my granda's funeral. My brother and I are sitting side by side in the front row, when I stick my finger up my nose. The minister was talking about the accident when my granda lost half his finger (car jack colllapsed) and I remembered what he'd said to me that day. I could hardly hold myself together, neither could my brother when I told him.
My dad told my brother that if he picked his nose, a little man that lives inside will grab your finger and never let go so your finger would be stuck.
When I was little, I had this big headboard on the back of my bed. It was a heirloom upholstered one, made of blue velvet. I would pick my nose at night while falling asleep and rub the boogers on the headboard. Because I was doing this in the dark, I assumed no one would ever know. My mother cleaned the headboard so many times and scolded me, and yet I still continued, absolutely convinced that because it was dark when I continued, she would never find out this time.
that there was a sharp toothed snail inside my nose, waiting to bite my finger off