The end of a love affair
So here's the deal with the quitting smoking:
I had lunch a couple of weeks ago with some friends. Someone at the next table over was smoking, and it was making me nuts. I turned to Kelly and said, "I cannot wait until I quit smoking so I can bitch about all the people who smoke."
See, I am a major hypocritical smoker. I hate smokers. I hate 2nd hand smoke, including my own. I hate smelly clothes, smelly hair, smelly breath, ashes, ash trays, cigarette butts. I hate paying almost four bucks a pack for a cancer-causing agent. I hate using Crest White-strips every other week so I don't have nasty teeth. I hate always trying to sit downwind from non-smokers to minimize the offense. I hate lying and saying I only smoke when I drink. I hate knowingly and intentionally causing my perfectly pink lungs to turn black. I hate knowing that every time I light a cigarette, someone who loves me silently (or not so silently) wishes I would quit.
But damn if I don't love the nicotine. I love the end-of-the-day glass of wine cigarette. I love the long drive in the car cigarette. I love the Starbucks or any other cup of coffee cigarette. I love the talking to a girlfriend on the phone cigarette. I love the friend smoking a cigarette so I'll have one too cigarette. I love the blackjack or euchre cigarette. I love the studying my ass off during finals cigarette. I love the ice-cold diet coke or beer cigarette. I love the "a girl with short hair sitting at a martini bar smoking a cigarette is sexy" compliment I got from an incredibly attractive man one night. I love the Bridget Jones' way of counting and justifying each day's "fags" based on level of drama in life. I really love the I have drama cigarette. That actually might be my favorite cigarette.
But I just can't justify it anymore, even to myself which is funny because I've been justifying it for nearly 15 years now. I'm an on-and-off smoker - I can go several days without a cigarette, or I can smoke a whole pack in one night out - so I never considered myself a real smoker. I quit completely in my early 20s for about 2 years, but one crappy day (yes, yes, the day I got dumped. Believe me - it's a reoccuring theme in my life.) I bought a pack of Marlboro lights, and one puff later I was a smoking again. Then I said I would quit when I was 30, but 30 came and went, and then 31, and now 32, and I'm still smoking. And then I said I would finally quit, for real this time, after the bar exam. Whatever. I'm always going to quit. It's just a matter of when and for how long.
Anyhow, it's been 10 whole days, nights included. With this recent surgery, it would be asinine for me to even think about putting a cigarette in my mouth, so I might as well give quitting a decent shot. I haven't had any alcholic bevvies either, which will likely be my greatest temptation, so I'm thinking I'll get some nicorette gum before I attempt any social outings.
Anyhow, smoking is like a crappy, destructive relationship that keeps talking me into getting back together again. I've had enough chutzpah to finally get rid of the crappy men in my life. Surely I can kick this habit, too.
I had lunch a couple of weeks ago with some friends. Someone at the next table over was smoking, and it was making me nuts. I turned to Kelly and said, "I cannot wait until I quit smoking so I can bitch about all the people who smoke."
See, I am a major hypocritical smoker. I hate smokers. I hate 2nd hand smoke, including my own. I hate smelly clothes, smelly hair, smelly breath, ashes, ash trays, cigarette butts. I hate paying almost four bucks a pack for a cancer-causing agent. I hate using Crest White-strips every other week so I don't have nasty teeth. I hate always trying to sit downwind from non-smokers to minimize the offense. I hate lying and saying I only smoke when I drink. I hate knowingly and intentionally causing my perfectly pink lungs to turn black. I hate knowing that every time I light a cigarette, someone who loves me silently (or not so silently) wishes I would quit.
But damn if I don't love the nicotine. I love the end-of-the-day glass of wine cigarette. I love the long drive in the car cigarette. I love the Starbucks or any other cup of coffee cigarette. I love the talking to a girlfriend on the phone cigarette. I love the friend smoking a cigarette so I'll have one too cigarette. I love the blackjack or euchre cigarette. I love the studying my ass off during finals cigarette. I love the ice-cold diet coke or beer cigarette. I love the "a girl with short hair sitting at a martini bar smoking a cigarette is sexy" compliment I got from an incredibly attractive man one night. I love the Bridget Jones' way of counting and justifying each day's "fags" based on level of drama in life. I really love the I have drama cigarette. That actually might be my favorite cigarette.
But I just can't justify it anymore, even to myself which is funny because I've been justifying it for nearly 15 years now. I'm an on-and-off smoker - I can go several days without a cigarette, or I can smoke a whole pack in one night out - so I never considered myself a real smoker. I quit completely in my early 20s for about 2 years, but one crappy day (yes, yes, the day I got dumped. Believe me - it's a reoccuring theme in my life.) I bought a pack of Marlboro lights, and one puff later I was a smoking again. Then I said I would quit when I was 30, but 30 came and went, and then 31, and now 32, and I'm still smoking. And then I said I would finally quit, for real this time, after the bar exam. Whatever. I'm always going to quit. It's just a matter of when and for how long.
Anyhow, it's been 10 whole days, nights included. With this recent surgery, it would be asinine for me to even think about putting a cigarette in my mouth, so I might as well give quitting a decent shot. I haven't had any alcholic bevvies either, which will likely be my greatest temptation, so I'm thinking I'll get some nicorette gum before I attempt any social outings.
Anyhow, smoking is like a crappy, destructive relationship that keeps talking me into getting back together again. I've had enough chutzpah to finally get rid of the crappy men in my life. Surely I can kick this habit, too.
posted by Amanda at 5:38 PM
<< Home