When I started college, I started smoking regularly. I had tried it while in high school, but once I moved on my own and didn’t fear the wrath of my mother as much, I began smoking everyday. I think it was the mix of all my friends doing it, as well as it being something to pass the time that kept me smoking. Maybe I was a social smoker more then anything. Once I started working at this company I am with now, I found that no one smoked. I was the only one; wanting to make a good impression, I didn’t smoke around any coworkers for months. It was then I realized that I really didn’t crave the cigarettes as much as I thought I did. Quitting came quite easy to me.
I still am not sure what the appeal of it is. It smells, it’s bad for your health and um, CANCER!
I am even more stumped since Vegas. Walking into a wall of cigarette and cigar smoke when entering casinos was not my idea of a great time. Weaving through their blinking lights and loudly singing machines with my scarf over my nose and mouth must have made people wonder what the hell I was doing there in the first place.
Not attractive.
[I'm talking about the smoke, not my scarf laden face.]
Mike on the other hand has yet to fight the addiction and quit. When I was pregnant with Carter he promised up and down that he would quit when the baby came. He was doing great on cutting back and trying really hard to nix the habit.
The night I went into labour he smoked a pack of cigarettes.
Last January he tried again and failed, then when he got his wisdom teeth puled out, then when he got the flu…
I’ve tried guilting him, getting angry, ignoring it, but nothing works. I know, I know… he has to quit when he’s good and ready. It has to be in his own time or else he will never quit.
When is a better time though? After the second child has arrived? After the doctor tells him again that our child’s ear infections and chronic cough could be a result of the second hand smoke residue from his father? (Mike doesn’t smoke around Carter or in the car that Carter travels in. But yes, it’s on his clothes, skin, hair, etc.)
As of right now, Mike’s quit smoking cigarettes and moved on to smaller cigars. Not gangsta style huge stogies, but small cigarette like ones. I dunno what they’re called and I don’t really care because well, he’s still smoking three years after he swore up and down that he would quit. Bitter much? Yes, yes I am actually.
Since he’s contracted this cold disease from me, he hasn’t smoked anything. I just hope that he’s sick long enough to get through the initial cravings and have it out of his system before he’s able to inhale without coughing up a lung.
How wonderful a wife am I that I hope my husband is on his death bed (as he so lovely describes this cold) long enough that it will help deter his cravings for nicotine?
That’s love people. Love I tell you.
This whole bitchfest entry makes me think about the people that say ex-smokers have no right to complain about smoking like a non-smoker does.
I don’t agree.
Our opinions as reformed / born-again non-smokers is just as meaningful as those who have never picked up a cigarette. I have every right to hate the smell and all around disgusting-ness as anyone else. I know what it’s like to want to light up, to have a smoke after sex, after eating and while drinking. I know how hard it can be to fight the need when you can’t get away to go outside and have that coveted butt or when all you can think about is just lighting up.
That doesn’t mean that I’ve relinquished my right to fresh air in a bar, casino, or car. I doesn’t mean that I should suffer through ingesting second hand smoke while eating just because I used to smoke. And it doesn’t mean that I should have more sympathy for those that do smoke and are trying to quit. I’ve been there. I’ve been through it and I know how hard it can be, but using addiction as an excuse can only get you so far in my books.
So here’s to Mike and his umpteenth attempt at quitting. I’ve kept my mouth shut and plan to do so the entire time - this time.
May it stick this time.
Otherwise I can’t be held accountable for what may happen to him.
