What's the glamour in a cigarette?

This is mostly shameful. I was a smoker.


Was, as in, I don't consider myself to be one anymore. And yes, I'm ashamed to admit I ever fell trap to cigarette smoking. It's disgusting, filthy, and unhealthy. I knew all of these things when I picked up a cigarette for the first time some years ago. I have a lot of reasons why, a lot of other people I could blame, but when it comes down to it, I'm the one who made the decision to inhale. And I did often over the last six years.

In order to quit smoking, I had to pack up everything I owned, make a huge joint investment of time and money, and relocate many states away. What didn't work? Abstaining from alcohol. Abstaining from food. Abstaining from friends. Running a freakin' marathon. No, it took a major relocation.

For the last six weeks or so, I've only slipped a few times-- out drinking in Denton or Austin, mainly. But over the last two weeks, I haven't had a single cigarette. Not one. And although I want one, and yes, often I really want one, I haven't broken down to buy a pack or bummed off someone nearby. I have about two more weeks to really cement this in: to get my full 30 days before Mark gets here and very likely brings a pack of cigarettes.

So I have to ask myself: What's the glamour in a cigarette?

I can stink and smell. Have yellow teeth and worry about cavities. I'll need to spit like a camel and blow snot out of my nose constantly. I get cravings in embarrassing places-- like out having a drink with a co-worker who doesn't know I smoke, or worse: a group of runners. I can't wear a pair of jeans twice if I went to the bar in them, and that usually makes some of my favorite pairs unwearable at work on Fridays. My nose gets dry and bleeds sometimes. Smoky places dry out my contacts quickly. I can't run as fast. My hair has to be washed constantly. I don't want to get in clean sheets at night without a shower. Kissing. Kissing is a big worry. Especially if the guy I'm kissing doesn't smoke (and believe it or not, there have been a few who have put up with that!). Food doesn't taste as good. Sugary drinks are weird tasting instead of being a nice treat. I'm often dehydrated. My fingers smell. I cough. And cough. And cough. Especially in the spring, when I'm sick anyway, and then it gets magnified by the addition of a smoker's cough. I never want to smoke when I'm sick, but then I start smoking again anyway. How gross is that? My throat hurts more often. My ears get clogged. I have to crop my cigarettes out of pictures. I have to worry about who has pictures of me smoking cigarettes. I'll probably get the angry-looking lip wrinkles. I want a cigarette when I'm pissed off. I want a cigarette when I'm stopped by a cop. I have to worry about cancer. I have to worry about birth control. I have to worry about blod clots. I feel guilty. A lot. I have to lie to people about not smoking. I think about smoking. I have to admit to smoking in my blog.

All for what? A slightly speedier metabolism and something to hold while I've got a glass in the other hand?

I'm done. I promise. I'm really freaking done.