NTKOG #137: The kind of smug health fanatic who’d rather die than let even the teensiest coil of smoke tantalize her lips.
I am: a smoker.
I am not: a smoker. Anymore.
The Scene: My lungs, freshly coated carnation pink and sprouting new alveolae like a friggin’ Chia Pet. After five years of smoking a daily half-pack — more when drinking, fewer in the sickly glow of morning contrition — in the past month, not a wisp of smoke has crossed these lips. It’s no secret that I’ve been trying to quit, and at a few days past the month mark, have now surpassed my adult record. Not only that, but I’ve been reasonably pleasant, lo!, these many long days. Barely even punched out any nuns or eaten young children’s souls.
The last time I was in the process of quitting, almost exactly a year ago, I got only a few hours shy of the one-month mark — thanks to the near-infinite masochism and patience of my beloved friends — then, in the very shadow of success, felt my skin spill into a cold, nicotine-perfumed sweat. I needed a cigarette. Had to have one. Would die without one. You came far enough, old sport, I told myself, then sucked down a pack of American Spirits one by one.
This weekend, nine hours shy of the one-month, I sat in my apartment, shellacked with the same junkie-sweat. For the first time in a few weeks, I felt that I would jab my keys in someone’s eye for one puff. Paced the street in front of my apartment, begging divine providence to send me a smoker to bum from, consoling myself: You did well enough, dude! No one will ever know, anyway. Out walked one of my neighbors with whom I’ve shared cigarettes and smokerly camaraderie over the months. I explained to him that I needed just one, couldn’t buy a pack because I was quitting, and — the weirdest thing. My old-time ally caught my eye and asked: Are you really sure you want this? …oh. Oh. No, I guess I don’t.
Chewing my lips off, shoulders shaking, I ran back upstairs and barricaded myself in my room. Spent the next three hours in the bath tub, blowing bubbles by the score and grimly chomping nicotine gum. I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, the intense desire for a cigarette like a dozen sets of fingernails trailing all over my body. But somehow I did get to sleep. And when I woke up, what do you know, the craving was gone. Looks like I currently hold the high score in my body’s will power console.
It’s less work every day, but still work. I’m proud of myself every time I step outside and don’t immediately reach for my pocket. Learning, slowly, how to do nothing with my hands. I miss it, though, even when my body is quiet and I am at my most sane.
Clocking in at a bit over five years, cigarettes have been my longest relationship. Like an old love, the memory of cigarettes is interwoven with every other pleasant thought. Aside from The Ex, every man I’ve been with has been a smoker. The San Francisco real estate appraiser whose Winston Lights I chain-smoked so long that the scent was still in my hair three washes later — I think I can still smell it now. The much older guy when I was just 18 who always lit two Marlboro Lights at once to show me that even though I was a kid at the height of my well-deserved hubris, there were still things someone else could do for me. The Parliament Menthols that tasted forbidden, thrilling, at the beginning of a night and so bitter the next morning. Pretentious foreigners (Davidoffs, Benson & Hedges); the rare non-intellectual (Marlboro Reds, you have a place in my heart); golds and silvers, ultra-filtered and unfiltered, hard packs and soft, those camel turkish nights.
{ 30 comments… read them below or add one }
Extra proud of you for this one. It is my biggest vice, the one I am just not quite willing to give up yet. I must admit, my deep love of sitting down and just enjoying my introspective time with my smoke. Even more so now that the rest of the world stays so far away from me, what with it being seen as a biohazard. Just me and the hipster, haphazard, artsy ones brave and brazen enough to dare smoke with me. Alas, I know eventually it must go. It’s like that love affair that hasn’t really gone south yet, but you know it will, your just savoring every last second together that you can before you must part. That is what I tell myself I am doing.
I have to say this post made me both sad and impressed at the same time. I felt your writing was absolutely stunning in this post, the latter part especially; the emotion just poured off the page. At the same time, this was waxing lyrical about smoking which… I despise. But it’s truly impressive that you managed to pass the one-month mark; I know so many people who can’t even get past the one week mark. SO DON’T GIVE IN.
Your body (and the people around you!) will be grateful! :) Keep it up TKOG!
The consumption of children’s souls is underrated.
I quit smoking almost as soon as I started…smoking just seemed TOO easy. I’ll still have one here or there, so as not to offend (or when I’m at my wit’s end), and sometimes I miss the bars in Wisconsin where you could second-hand smoke a few packs at once while knocking back a PBR and a shot or nine.
Keep it up, at the end of the day non-smokers taste better. Vegetarians taste better still, but let’s not get carried away.
*whew*
Glad you didn’t give in. Nice work!
CONGRATS! thats the worst. when you know you can do it and then you turn around and there’s the craving. i’ve had one all week :( and ive been “clean” since july
Well done bonny lass; keep it up.
Aside from the less dry cleaning, and reduced chances of dying, aren’t you finding that food tastes more, other things are easier to smell, and you have more money at the end of the month?
Weirdly, I haven’t had a big increase in my senses of taste and smell. I blame this on the cold that’s been lingering for a few weeks. Probably a good thing, though: last time I quit and my taste buds came back, I realized I didn’t enjoy half of the vegetables that I love when my taste buds are dulled from smoking.
No net financial benefit either, although I’ll admit that’s because I use the fact that I’ve quit smoking to justify buying myself a treat every few days. If I were more of a budget person, I suppose I’d be feeling this benefit more.
So far, the only actual benefit I’ve experienced from smoking is the sense of pride from having done it. And the knowledge that if I quit now instead of waiting to quit until I’m trying to conceive children, then I won’t endure the awkwardness of resenting my unborn child for making me quit a beloved habit.
Never wanted to be one to discourage a positive change in one’s life, but raising a child to age 18 costs somewhere over a quarter of a million dollars. If you smoke a pack a day, at current prices, you’re still looking at less than $40k for that same length of time.
Of course, if somehow I had an extra two grand a year in disposable income, I’d probably spend it on whisky, beer and strippers, so there’s that…
True, but I can’t raise cigarettes to be precocious little socialists, embarrass them in front of their first boyfriends, or dig up mortifying snapshots for their wedding slideshows! Trade-offs, trade-offs…
{{TKOG}}xx – This sort of image is why I read your blog!
Ok, I got nothing else except another “well done”, and a suggestion that according to conventional immunology your cold(s; it’s probably a whole string of low grade infections lasting 4 or 5 days each) should be even worse if you were still puffing.
That’s awesome! And beautifully written. I feel like I’ve gotten a little insight into the why of smoking cigarettes that I never understood before. Although I’m slightly terrified of cigarettes (I think it’s mostly the addiction thing more than the health thing or anything else, really), I’ve smoked.. other things before so I can appreciate the appeal of the actual act and the community thing of it all.
So good on you for being able to stick with it. That’s certainly an accomplishment to be proud of.
Good for you!
(In fairness, we’re not all coughing passive aggressively. For some people, the smoke legitimately makes us cough!)
That’s true! I totally respect the right of passers-by to breathe! But you can tell the difference between walking past someone who coughs (eek!) versus someone standing thirty feet away and launching a dry cough at your face like a torpedo.
Also, because I feel the need to defend myself, I truly believe one could find no more respectful smoker than TKOG: I never smoked when even walking past old people, pregnant women, anyone who looked under the age of 18; didn’t smoke while standing anywhere where people had no choice but to stand near me (bus stops, standing in line, etc.); stayed at least 20 feet away from open doors and windows (apartments, houses and cars).
Okay, okay, I might sound defensive, but I just want to say that it was never my intention to harm or irritate any non-smokers, and if I or any of my smoker brethren have harmed your lungs, you have at least this dude’s sincere apology!
You were always a very polite smoker. After being friends with you for years, I can’t remember ever being irritated by your cigarette smoke, whereas the people here make me want to use buckets of water to put out their cigarettes for them.
Congrats!
Kiss-Ducker, you’re being awfully short sighted. Buckets of water? Try waterguns filled with lighter fluid. Much longer-lasting results!
:twisted: :D
Is there a flashback risk that might injure Kiss-Ducker though?
Ugh, this post made my heart ache. I miss cigarettes so much! Sigh, the things we do to survive.
Dude, look at you! I’m so proud. I honestly havent given quitting a fair enough chance. I have gone 2 days now. But that’s mostly because I was too hungover to smoke. I really do wanna quit though…
I’ve known more than one person who quit successfully because of a nasty hangover. They can’t bear a cigarette the next day, and resolve to not buy another. Never got more than a week with that method myself, but stick with it.
YOU NEED TO QUIT MISSY
Ha, passive aggressive coughing. I’ve done it, I’m not proud of it, but I remember coughing legitimately behind a smoker in a line for a roller coaster (in England when it was legalzies). Guy apologized, put it out, and took a moment to look puzzled at his empty hand before whipping out another, like a reflex. It was a surreal moment.
I’m proud of ya, chuck! You deserve those treats.
Haha. Passive aggressively coughing at you.
I’m not a smoker. I’m so thankful I never started. By the way, if you haven’t, don’t start watching Mad Men. Even I want to light up while watching an episode of that show.
My ex-boyfriend and still very good friend recently quit smoking. He started smoking at 12. He’s now almost 33. He smoked at least a pack a day for TWENTY YEARS. He said he hasn’t killed anyone yet, and I think it’s been almost two months. Hang in there. You can do it!
I am so proud of you!! Big hugs!
Good job! Stay strong! More bubbles!
Congrats on sticking it out. Definitely tough, but very worth it. One of those things that you will be glad you did it now, later in life. If that made any sense.
congratulations! keep it up! :D
“You know, that whole not dying thing.” Just remember that!
You were so poetic about your little nicotine sticks. Find something else to shower your love upon.
Glad you quit! And I agree, you did wax wonderfully poetic, but imagine what awesome things you can say about…oh, I don’t know, clean livin’. (Gah. I hate clean livin’, too.)
I quit last June.
And it was the best decision of my life. I even have all my friends I use to smoke with quitting. I feel like a trendsetter . . . only kinda back-asswards.
Now when I even *think* about smoking, I literally cringe.
I think about how badly I’d smell. How my throat would feel like knives were slicing through it (‘cuz apparently that’s what happens when you smoke. Have you ever looked at a picture of vocal chords on a smoker? Yeah. Not good). How my tongue would turn yellow and become extremely dry. How my hands would reek and taste badly.
Food is better. Smells are better.
Trust me. The longer you go, the easier it becomes. And that’s a true fact!
Hang in there, girl.