They are the bane of my existence.
The story goes like this:
When I was little, I threatened to break all my dad's cigarettes in two. It was when my mother suggested "that might not be a good idea", I conceeded to just constantly nag him. It must have worked because he quit before I was a a teenager.
Throughout my teens, I scoffed at the smokers, how stupid they were to be throwing their lungs - and their lives - away so young. I was much more mature then them. They were all just stupid.
My uncle - who always seemed close to my age but I think he just acted immature - would often come to our house and shake his yellow nicotine finger at me "Don't ever start," *puff* *puff* "Don't you ever start."
It was not until I was 17, at a friend's cottage, socialising with good friends on the deck that I decided to "try one". Really - what harm could it do?
I didn't cough. I didn't hack. I didn't really feel much of anything. Well, until my third or fourth. And then my head was spinning.
Well, I was drinking. And I would never buy a pack. No, not me. Never.
And then I started hanging out with one of the Js. He smoked regularly but was not one of these "stupid idiots" I often saw hanging out by the smoker's door at the high school. He was smart.
And if he smokes, well then, I could still be smart and smoke.
Ah the brain of a teenager.
So when I turned 18 it got even worse because now, Miss Law Abiding citizen could go out and buy cigarettes and not be breaking any laws.
Then, my attitude changed. I began buying packs and smoking them on a regular basis - mostly at our coffee shop Tims. It wasn't long before I was forced to admit to my parents that I smoked.
They weren't mad, just disappointed.
My mother, "I just have this image in my head of the lovely pink little lungs I gave you and now, you're making them all black. You made it through so many peer pressure years - why now?"
I didn't really know. It was my rebellion that wasn't really a rebellion at all. I was legal to smoke and I wasn't really harming anyone else because I smoked outside - my mother leaving me an ashtray so I would not be flicking butts in her garden.
For the next 6 years, it was part of my daily life. Morning smokes with coffee. After dinner smokes on balconies. Multiples smokes with friends on patios with drinks and much debate.
I had always said I would not be a "married" smoker or a "smoking parent" - smoking was simply part of my younger life. I would give up when I felt I was too old for it.
That time came two years after graduating university and 4 months before getting my wisdom teeth out.
I always found that funny that my wisdom teeth operation was my motivation. I knew I wouldn't be able to smoke for over a week because of infection and I didn't want to go through the double pain of post surgery AND nicotine withdrawl.
June 21st 2002 was the day I quit smoking.
It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. The first day was so long. I just kept looking at the clock - "I haven't had a cigarette for 6 hours...7 hours....9 hours". I thought the day would never end.
But it did. And so did many more. So many more that it wasn't until mid August that I cracked after many drinks, had about 10 cigarettes and had my first REAL hangover. I swore I would never ever smoke again. The pain in the morning was not worth it.
And so I lasted another 8 months, almost a year, before I suddenly picked up the idea of social smoking.
I had begun to figure out how to smoke when drinking and not become ill. And so I decided, I would continue to be a social smoker and then quit that later on.
My New Year's Resoultion in 2003 was to quit being a social smoker.
I did very well, since we were saving money and living in England and smokes were ££££ so I didn't buy them.
What didn't help is once we got to Greece by April, I was on vacation. Okay, so I would be a vacation smoker. Only in Greece. Well and then we went to Italy and you can't not smoke there so Italy too.
I did well through the summer in Leeds - still not buying packs but the occasional bumming.
I began to beat myself up too when I smoked. Get frustrated and angry. I got what my uncle was saying. You don't know what you're missing if you never start.
I really really really don't want to WANT to smoke - which I think unfortunately is different then I don't want to smoke.
After a few drinks, I do want to smoke. And so, for the past 2 months, I have been smoking when we are out on Saturday nights only to be completely disgusted by the smell at any other time of the day.
Now, I'm buying the Marlboro Lights 10 pack - perfect for the social smoker who doesn't want any left in the morning but doesn't want to be bumming all night.
The side effects, however, are starting to wear my down. I am - effectively - going through withdrawl every week. Nothing like the withdrawl from when I first smoked - the last thing I want is a cigarette for the next couple of days after - but it takes 48 hours for the nicotine to completely leave your body.
And so I am horribley moody. And impatient. And irritated. And ill. Not so much a cold or flu or stomach bug but more just ick all over.
I kick myself every Monday, making promises that I won't smoke ever again.
And yet, I just can't help myself.
I've heard hypnosis works. Perhaps I should just cut off all my fingers. I'm sure I'd just learn to smoke with my toes.
The story goes like this:
When I was little, I threatened to break all my dad's cigarettes in two. It was when my mother suggested "that might not be a good idea", I conceeded to just constantly nag him. It must have worked because he quit before I was a a teenager.
Throughout my teens, I scoffed at the smokers, how stupid they were to be throwing their lungs - and their lives - away so young. I was much more mature then them. They were all just stupid.
My uncle - who always seemed close to my age but I think he just acted immature - would often come to our house and shake his yellow nicotine finger at me "Don't ever start," *puff* *puff* "Don't you ever start."
It was not until I was 17, at a friend's cottage, socialising with good friends on the deck that I decided to "try one". Really - what harm could it do?
I didn't cough. I didn't hack. I didn't really feel much of anything. Well, until my third or fourth. And then my head was spinning.
Well, I was drinking. And I would never buy a pack. No, not me. Never.
And then I started hanging out with one of the Js. He smoked regularly but was not one of these "stupid idiots" I often saw hanging out by the smoker's door at the high school. He was smart.
And if he smokes, well then, I could still be smart and smoke.
Ah the brain of a teenager.
So when I turned 18 it got even worse because now, Miss Law Abiding citizen could go out and buy cigarettes and not be breaking any laws.
Then, my attitude changed. I began buying packs and smoking them on a regular basis - mostly at our coffee shop Tims. It wasn't long before I was forced to admit to my parents that I smoked.
They weren't mad, just disappointed.
My mother, "I just have this image in my head of the lovely pink little lungs I gave you and now, you're making them all black. You made it through so many peer pressure years - why now?"
I didn't really know. It was my rebellion that wasn't really a rebellion at all. I was legal to smoke and I wasn't really harming anyone else because I smoked outside - my mother leaving me an ashtray so I would not be flicking butts in her garden.
For the next 6 years, it was part of my daily life. Morning smokes with coffee. After dinner smokes on balconies. Multiples smokes with friends on patios with drinks and much debate.
I had always said I would not be a "married" smoker or a "smoking parent" - smoking was simply part of my younger life. I would give up when I felt I was too old for it.
That time came two years after graduating university and 4 months before getting my wisdom teeth out.
I always found that funny that my wisdom teeth operation was my motivation. I knew I wouldn't be able to smoke for over a week because of infection and I didn't want to go through the double pain of post surgery AND nicotine withdrawl.
June 21st 2002 was the day I quit smoking.
It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. The first day was so long. I just kept looking at the clock - "I haven't had a cigarette for 6 hours...7 hours....9 hours". I thought the day would never end.
But it did. And so did many more. So many more that it wasn't until mid August that I cracked after many drinks, had about 10 cigarettes and had my first REAL hangover. I swore I would never ever smoke again. The pain in the morning was not worth it.
And so I lasted another 8 months, almost a year, before I suddenly picked up the idea of social smoking.
I had begun to figure out how to smoke when drinking and not become ill. And so I decided, I would continue to be a social smoker and then quit that later on.
My New Year's Resoultion in 2003 was to quit being a social smoker.
I did very well, since we were saving money and living in England and smokes were ££££ so I didn't buy them.
What didn't help is once we got to Greece by April, I was on vacation. Okay, so I would be a vacation smoker. Only in Greece. Well and then we went to Italy and you can't not smoke there so Italy too.
I did well through the summer in Leeds - still not buying packs but the occasional bumming.
I began to beat myself up too when I smoked. Get frustrated and angry. I got what my uncle was saying. You don't know what you're missing if you never start.
I really really really don't want to WANT to smoke - which I think unfortunately is different then I don't want to smoke.
After a few drinks, I do want to smoke. And so, for the past 2 months, I have been smoking when we are out on Saturday nights only to be completely disgusted by the smell at any other time of the day.
Now, I'm buying the Marlboro Lights 10 pack - perfect for the social smoker who doesn't want any left in the morning but doesn't want to be bumming all night.
The side effects, however, are starting to wear my down. I am - effectively - going through withdrawl every week. Nothing like the withdrawl from when I first smoked - the last thing I want is a cigarette for the next couple of days after - but it takes 48 hours for the nicotine to completely leave your body.
And so I am horribley moody. And impatient. And irritated. And ill. Not so much a cold or flu or stomach bug but more just ick all over.
I kick myself every Monday, making promises that I won't smoke ever again.
And yet, I just can't help myself.
I've heard hypnosis works. Perhaps I should just cut off all my fingers. I'm sure I'd just learn to smoke with my toes.
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