1. Not interested in quitting at all. Hell, you're just getting
started. Smoking is FUN! It demonstrates to the world how sophisticated
and grown up you are now, and may even make that hunk who sits in the
row just ahead of you notice you.
2. Parents catch you with a package of cigarettes in your purse, and in
spite of your sincere denials, and perfectly believable story about how
someone asked them to hold them in your purse for them, they refuse to
believe you and confiscate them and threaten you with dire results if
they catch you with cigarettes again.
You resolve to be more careful, and leave your cigarettes cached under the cushion on the porch swing.
A very small doubt enters your mind--maybe it would be easier not to smoke? Nah!
3. Your Uncle Tom walks into the malt shop just as you are
demonstrating your skill at blowing smoke rings and French inhaling. He
is not impressed. Your parents, however, when he calls them, are QUITE
impressed. To the point where they ground you for the rest of the
school year, and cut your allowance in half. Again, you consider
keeping your solemn promise to your parents and actually not smoking
anymore, but....Nah...you still need to look cool and sophisticated,
and you are not going to let them boss YOU around. After all, you are
almost 15!
4. You meet a really nice boy who doesn't smoke. So you gleefully throw
your cigarettes in the river as the two of you cross over the bridge
one sleepy Sunday afternoon. (That's the real truth about Billie Joe
McCallister and the Talahatchee Bridge, by the way.) The romance sours,
however, like most sophomore romances do, and in the first hurt of the
break-up, the first thing you do is buy a pack of smokes. To SHOW him,
or something.
5. You graduate from high school and head off to college. Quit smoking?
NEVER! First of all, all the cool people smoke--only nerds and
"goodie-goodies" don't, and God forbid anyone should think you are one
of them. And now you notice something really cool! When you pull an all
nighter, studying for that mid term or writing that term paper, smoking
helps you THINK better. True! You can't think as well when you're not
smoking.
6. You meet that certain someone--this is it. You get engaged and plan
for the big day. Chances are, he's a smoker, too, and you may very well
discuss quitting someday, to save for that European holiday or to buy a
house.
7. Pregnant! WOW! Gotta quit. Because you KNOW that smoking can't be
good for the baby. But the Doctor doesn't seem too concerned as long as
you don't overdo, and you're feeling a little whoopsy in the mornings,
and a cigarette seems to help that, and you're still working, so you've
got so much to do, and as soon as you quit work you'll quit. But when
you try, at the 7 months mark, it makes you so tense and uptight that
you're sure THAT can't be good for the baby so you decide to quit as
soon as he/she is born.
8. New Baby, no job, tight money, car payments, husband gets transferred...you want me to WHAT????? No way.
9. PREGNANT AGAIN. See above.
10. See Number 8 above.
11. Sink into soap opera hell. Speak in words of one syllable all day
long. Tell husband to look at the "moo cows" on way to adult office
party. Get depressed. Can't give up cigarettes now. Need to climb out
of the baby trap.
12. Back to school. No way can you quit now--got to finish this paper,
get the kids ready for school help them with homework, attend the
seminar, do the group project, 4 loads of laundry--need to smoke to
stay awake! Husband is making noises about quitting, but then he's
taking up jogging, too. Who the Hell has time to bloody JOG????
Step 13 Partner quits. Announces it is "EASY". "Hmnnn", one
contemplates from the kitchen whilst clutching the paring knife firmly
in one hand, "perhaps it IS easy, when all one has to do is go to one's
nice clean office and sit at one's nice clean desk, and then come home
and don one's nice clean jogging outfit THAT SOME STUPID BOOB WASHED
FOR YOU...."...nevermind. You announce that you will quit smoking when
you are ready. After all--you have no other vices, and in the back of
your mind lurks a sneaking suspicion that if you quit smoking, your
dress size will increase inversely as your consumption of cigarettes
goes down. These are the days of Jane Fonda. )(May she rot in
Saskatchewan) Given a choice between being a smoker in size 5 or a
non-smoker in size 14, there is very little choice to make.
Step 14. The kids come home from school and begin to lecture you on the
evils of smoking. You begin to not exactly HIDE your smoking from them,
but try to do it kind of away from where they are. For the first time,
one of your kids announces: "Janet can't come and play here anymore
'cause Janet's mom won't let her play at houses where people smoke!"
"Good for Janet's Mom", you mutter, sitting on the john with the fan
blowing full speed, blowing your smoke straight up in the air. "Didn't
like the kid anyway. Had a smart mouth on her."
Step 15. Visit the doctor for annual check up. He/she expresses
surprise that you haven't quit smoking yet. You try to explain all the
reasons why you just CAN'T quit right now, but in the end, beaten down
by his/her superior position and logic, you agree that you will do it.
Right then and there. You throw your package in the garbage can in the
examining room and walk out--a better and healthier woman.
Step 16. Two days later. You realize that you hate your doctor, you
have ALWAYS hated your doctor, and that if you never saw him/her again
it would be quite alright and even too soon, and besides the office is
too far away, and its time you switched Doctors , and "Where are the
Goddamned Car Keys so I can go to the corner Store!!??" Any smart
remarks by family members on the resumption of smoking are met with
vitriolic spite, and soon wither away.
Step 17. You begin to notice a cough. A naggy little thing. It comes
and goes, but maybe comes a little more often than it goes. You think
about taking it to the Doctor, but guess what? You haven't GOT a doctor!
Step 18. Get a new Doctor. Someone more understanding. Explain that you
know you need to quit, and you really want to quit, because it is a bad
example for your children, and , and and...could you please have that
new chewing gum? You leave, armed with a prescription for nicorette,
and a new determination.
Step 19.
Day one. Nicorette is vile. It is so vile that you cannot imagine why
anyone would feel that chewing this **** is better than smoking.
Margaret from across the street comes over. You bum one from her.
Within 36 hours, you are sending your KIDS across the street to bum
cigarettes from Margaret. This is too embarrassing. You buy Margaret a
couple of packs, a couple of packs for yourself, and store the
nicorette in the top of the high dresser drawer where the kids can't
get it. Again, and comments from non-smoking family and friend are met
with spite and malice.
Step 20. Go to bookstore and check out self-help and Pop-psych
sections. Spend $118.96 on books entitled variously: "Quit smoking in
just one week", "I will show you how to quit". "Stopping the cigarette
habit", "You, too, can quit smoking". Justify cost of books in terms of
money saved by not smoking. Place books PROMINENTLY on bedside table.
This process fills you with wonderful feelings of virtue and
satisfaction. So much so, that you feel no real desire to actually read
the books. Somehow having them there beside your little pillow is
enough for now.
Step 21. Flu season. You get it. You get it BAD. You get it BIG TIME.
Other people have the flu. You have the Siberian Guaranteed Death
Virus. --(Our motto: "Even if you don't die--- you will WANT to!")
Three weeks after everyone else has recovered and is skiing or
wallpapering or something, you are still coughing and hacking, and
clawing at your chest after going up the escalator. Back to the Doctor.
Step 22. Doctor expresses surprise that you have still not quit
smoking. You assure him/her that you have cut down to practically
nothing, and make a sincere and solemn promise to yourself EVEN AS THE
WORDS LEAVE YOUR MOUTH to in fact, do so. Doctor suggests strongly that
quitting will not only help with the virus from Hell, but will also do
something about that sinus condition you seem to have had since 1972.
You leave the office, clutching a prescription for a high test
antibiotic and a pamphlet entitled "A Doctor's Guide to Smoking
Cessation". Once in the car, you carefully place the pamphlet in the
glove compartment where you will be sure to find it when you sell the
car.
Step 23. Your 40's approach. You find yourself drawn to television
programs like "Trauma: Life in the ER", and "The Operation". The one
where they remove a lung is especially enlightening. You decide once
and for all, this is it. This has to happen now. Back to the Doctor.
Step 24 Doctor expresses no surprise that you are still smoking. The
little jerk obviously has no faith in you and your promises. Can you
have a proper therapeutic relationship with someone like that? And
besides, the office is too far away. Resolve to find another, more
sympathetic doctor, one more tuned in to the stresses of your life, and
further resolve to quit smoking, the INSTANT you find said doctor.
Step 25. Husband announces he will no longer tolerate smoking in the
car, the bedroom, the family room or the living room. You find yourself
spending a great deal of time shivering on the patio, blowing smoke out
the open kitchen window, and seated, fully clothed, on the john, fan
going full blast, blowing smoke straight up in the air. On the odd
occasion, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror, real or mental,
and wonder just where it all went wrong. You appeared, at one time, to
have such promise....
Step 26 Your workplace goes smoke free. Your brothers and sisters announce they will no longer tolerate smoking in their houses.
Step 27 Your PARENTS announce they will no longer tolerate smoking in their house.
Step 28 You notice your boss giving you a dirty look as he leaves the
building through the side door, pushing his way past the crowd of
smokers, waving his hand in front of his face in a futile gesture aimed
at clearing the air. You give him a little sympathetic smile, but
suspect that somehow he hasn't quite got the message you wanted to
convey. Whatever that was.
Step 29 New Years Party! Yaaaay! Husband announces it is being held at
a non-smoking restaurant. WHOA! BACK THIS BUS UP, BUDDY! I SMOKE!
Long silence while you sulk for 3 days.
A decision is made. No, not the one you are all thinking. The decision
reached after 3 days of mature contemplation is: "Piss on them. If I
can't smoke, I'm not going!"
Step 30 Husband goes to New Year's Eve party alone. (?) You stay home.
At 9 p.m. you open a LARGE bottle of champagne and drink it all
yourself while smoking 34 cigarettes, some of them simultaneously. You
smoke in every room in the house, in defiance of edicts issued by
sturmfuhrer Herr husband.
Step 31 Husband returns early from party to sight of your flannel clad
butt protruding from the powder room door as, with head in toilet, you
sing your blues and pay your dues for the champagne. The marriage
enters a new and somewhat frightening stage.
Step 32 You burn a hole in your brand new jacket which cost the earth
that your husband bought you to make up for the New Year's Eve fiasco.
Step 33 Your second last smoking friend quits. You are the last person
in your building who smokes. You hear that Arthur, whom you loved
passionately at 13, and with whom you learned to smoke, is dying of
lung cancer. That nagging little cough begins to take on an ominous
significance.
Step 34. New Doctor. You go in, dressed professionally and with a
sincere smile tell him/her that although you only smoke occasionally,
you would like to quit and you would like to try this new Patch thing
which you have been reading about. Impressed by the fact that you only
smoke occasionally, the idiot gives you a prescription for the 7mgs.
You, stabbed with your own knife, hoist with your own petard as the
bard would say, leave the office, clutching the prescription, close to
tears, knowing this isn't going to work.
Step 35 It doesn't.
Step 36. The Siberian Death Virus hits again. You pray for an early and merciful death. No such luck.
Step 37. Wanly and weakly, you step out your bedroom door. You KNOW you
need help. You also know that help isn't going to come from your
doctor, it isn't going to come from your friends, and it isn't going to
come from your family. Its gotta come from people who have "been
there--done that". 'Cause the rest of them don't know what the Hell its
all about. That you DO know.
Step 38 You turn to your trusty computer. Search for "quitting
smoking". Up comes something called the Quit-net. Intrigued, you read a
little. Some woman who calls herself Angellady is congratulating
somebody called mushroom on having 4 days or something. Somebody called
Nancysu sent in a joke that was so funny I laughed out loud for the
first time in what seemed like months. Wait a minute…..this might be
worth sticking around for a while.
Step 39 Long talk with self. Who am I? What kind of person am I? Am I
the kind of person who is simply too weak to do this? Am I simply not
able to stick it out? Am I content to die before I see all my
grandchildren? Am I disgusted enough with it all? Has the time finally
come? YES!
Step 40 Log on to the Q. Shred cigarettes and flush. Tell everyone I
have quit. Resolve to either do it, or become a bag lady. Log on to the
Q. Discover I can give as well as get support. Do it and do it and do
it, and before long I am at almost 3 months!!!!
Step 41. Begin to compose the poem. My magnum opus is still under construction, but you'll be the first to read it!
Love you all. |