then i returned to scotland in november of 2005, where a pack of smokes cost over $10, and i embraced my vice with open lungs. i had a wanton 2-week fling with tobacco and abandoned it abruptly upon my return to canada. but i'd opened that door.... although the addiction didn't immediately suck me back into its yellow fingered clutches, slowly but surely i found myself a smoker again. i felt a little annoyed with myself for losing control of things, but at the same time i had one crucial piece of knowledge that allowed me to continue smoking, more or less guilt and worry free: i quit before, i can do it again. when i'm ready.
i pushed back that quitting date a few times. i mean come on, i'm clearly not going to quit in the summer; that's primo smokin' time! patios and backyard bbqs and bonfires at the farm. nope, not a good time to quit. and i'm not going to quit right after new years, too cliche. plus, i'll want to be able to smoke on my birthday. then a year ago today i took my last cigarette out of the pack. huh, last one. and that was it, i decided. cold turkey.
i'm proud of myself. i think i should be, second kick at the cat or not. i get nostalgic for smoking at times, missing the ritual of it more than the thing itself. i liked relaxed mornings with my coffee and a smoke. and who can dispute the synergy of beer and cigarettes? when scribbling in my journal, imagining i was a brilliant writer, my burning cigarette seemed the perfect prop. but whatever, i suppose being able to run 10 minutes without panting is ok too.
fyi, "just what the doctor ordered" is actually an old slogan for L&M cigarettes. i like irony.
ooh, smoking was so fun back in those days! look how carefree they are, rewarding themselves with a smooth, smoky treat
not quite as glamorous these days