I quit smoking 14 times over the last four years or so, but I always kept an ashtray or two for guests. Yeah, right. Now my ashtray is full of Marlboros YET AGAIN. My buddy came to visit. We always have to do some sort of evil away from the girls. He had been trying to quit, too. The lying wicked nicotine demon whispered to both of us it would only be for the weekend, and I fell for it YET AGAIN. I smoked all week. And I know I have to quit YET AGAIN.
The first ten or so cigs you smoke after you have been clean are no relief. In fact, you feel absolutely poisoned after the first hit, naseuous, slow, sick, stinky. The compulsion is stronger than the distate of being poisoned. You get used to that sick feeling again.
I wish it wasn’t bad for me. I wish I could just fucking smoke, but I know I can’t. I am a biggo fat fucker about to turn 40, and I know smoking will kill me. I tell myself that I enjoy the break that smoking gives me, the pause, the few minutes to contemplate, the few minutes smoking gives me out on the deck with Chris.
But that is a bald fucking lie. It is like 100 degrees outside, swarming with mosquitos. Texas summers are miserable, but I am out smoking in it, stinking like Off spray and still getting chewed.
AND CHRIS CHEATED! We quit together every time, but then baby always cheats. LOL I saw the ashes all over her car, and the mints, and the lighter. My biggest motivation is that I don’t want my baby to smoke. And it felt so unfair that I was beating back this ugly demon while my partner was smoking in secret. Isn’t that crazy? My brat is very self-indulgent. I am the one who can deny myself all things. My setting this example was all in vain? YET AGAIN? After she promised?!!?? Well, fuck it!
Smoking with coffee in the morning, smoking with buddies while drinking beer, being outside at parties with the other smokers, where the real party is at… the crinkle of the cellophane on a new pack, popping it against the back of my wrist…. NO!
Nicotine? It is the devil, I tell you.
The way I gotta go about these things is to re-enlist in the fucking army and roll my meanie drill sargeant on out for boot camp. DROP THAT FIRE STICK, MAGGOT! There are no gray areas in Rhon’s boot camp, and it’s not for sissies.
I am going out for a cigarette while I think about that…
Amen brother about the smokin’ thing. I am able to smoke while drinking, then put it down again….but sometiems it extends beyond the drinking. Ugh I hate it. You are so right that the first 10 or so are nasty but we keep going.