I quit smoking at least 15 times a day. On good days, my abstinence lasts two hours; on bad days, two minutes. My New Year's resolution was to quit smoking. That lasted 47 minutes. You can't blame me: a New Year's kiss and three glasses of champagne can only be enhanced by a cigarette.
I've done almost everything to quit: cold turkey, cutting down, counseling -- though not the Patch, because it has to be prescribed. And not the gum, because I have friends who are now addicted to the gum. Recently, though, I realized that my attempts to quit were preposterous. I love smoking. I love smokers. I AM a self-loving smoker.
Take, for instance, the inner monologue that I always have while running on the treadmill: breathe gasp> breathe gasp> focus gasp> breathe gasp> I want a cigarette NOW GASP>. Inevitably, I'm the girl who lights up the minute she steps outside the Gimbel glass doors, before even descending the staircases. By the time I walk the four blocks home, I'm usually on my second cigarette. Hey, I deserve it -- I just ran four miles.
I've made so many friends because I smoke. Us smokers, we need to stick together. Besides, it's awkward to stand outside a building with another smoker without talking. The first time you see a fellow smoker, you talk about the weather. The second time you see him, you talk about your horrible day. The third time you see him, you both suggest running down to Dunkin' to grab some coffee (you will never meet a smoker who doesn't drink coffee). Voila! A new friend.
I have a professor who smoked. We stood outside together, puffing away, discussing the philosophies of art and Wal-Mart. He quit smoking this month. I miss the rambling discussions we had while smoking. Even worse, I can no longer count on him to give five-minute breaks in class. Bummer.
Smoking brings people closer together. I know that without my daily intake of nicotine and carcinogens, I would never survive a phone call with my parents. Yes mom inhale> Yes mom exhale> Yes mom inhale> NO MOM, FOR THE HUNDRETH TIME I DO NOT WANT TO BE A DOCTOR! exhaleinhaleexhale>. Before I started smoking, these conversations would end with my leaving the room and slamming the door, like most 15 year olds are apt to do. Now, I take it all in stride. Sometimes, my mom and I will share a cigarette together. It's great mother-daughter bonding time.
Don't get me wrong. I know smoking is bad for you. It causes lung cancer, emphysema, heart disease, blah, blah, blah. I commend people who want to quit. I respect those who don't smoke. But I CANNOT stand those who won't let me smoke. It's my body, my lungs, MY CHOICE. That's right, Mayor Bloomberg -- I'm not moving home because I think it's ridiculous that you won't let me puff away at my neighborhood bar. I understand restaurants, but do you know how wrong it felt to listen to that band rock out in a smoke-free environment? Thanks, but I'm staying in a more civilized city where I can enjoy a cig with my Yuengling.
