Monday, September 13, 2010

The Smoke No Longer Gets in Your Eyes

I am a former damn, dirty smoker. The former is only applied because of my recent hospital stay (see my previous post for that story). I have been smoke free for five weeks as of today and truth be told, it freakin sucks!

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I stopped smoking, as it was such a rude, disgusting habit. However, I never realized how much I really enjoyed smoking until I stopped. It's not that I am craving nicotine, because I'm not. This isn't even like previous attempts to quit, when I eventually gave up. What it comes down to, is that I miss the actual act of smoking. Hell, I was good at it.

Let me put this into perspective for all you non-smoking, never smoker folks: I smoked about 1 pack per day. The last time I bought a pack, it cost around $6. Do the math. I don't miss spending that money. Beyond that, I don't notice a great change. I suppose I can breathe easier, but it's not something that I ever tried to measure. When I was smoking, I would still go to the gym and hit the treadmill. If I could have lit up and had a martini, I would have been in heaven, but that would have been a rather strange sight. (Absolutely Fabulous come to life!) Of course, after the gym, I would light up in my car for the drive home.

Speaking of driving, that seems to be when I miss smoking the most (after drinking). I always enjoyed a cigarette when sitting in traffic. Then there's the aforementioned drinking and smoking (regardless of how I might feel the next day); nothing quite as enjoyable as a martini or a beer with a cigarette (or six). (Oh, by the way, this totally reminds me of a trip to a local bar, where I actually said, "This room smells like my hangovers taste". Yup....that's definitely a future story).

I'm not going back to smoking, I just miss it....every day. Not for the drug, but for the action. Besides, if I could survive my recent vacation without smoking (turns out New Hope is a smoker's town) then I should be good to go. Hopefully I can become one of those folks who has one on occasion and no more. We'll see. Until then, I'll just pretend.