Have no idea how the password protect came on
I just loved that title. It’s been three months for me. I’m the only person who comes to the state with the cheapest cigarettes and gives them up. Story of my life. Do everything backwards.
I wish Obama luck. (This article is about how he should stop giving them up. ) I don’t do nicorette as I was never physically addicted and would probably begin craving gum. My mother chewed gum though only in the car I think and I couldn’t stand it. I had banned the family from eating apples as the smell of raw apples makes me want to vomit–but I love all cooked apple products.
OK, TMI. It’s very hot; I’m waiting on some important things and all I want to do is sleep as I was in shock yesterday from falling into the ocean at the shore line.
Thing is I miss cigarettes at the beach. It’s one of the few places the smell isn’t scuzzy, and people still smoke here. Not that many people and more and more restaurants are going all non smoking.
I have had to walk out of clubs as the smell grossed me out but at the same time I wanted.
I don’t feel incredibly better nor did I feel any of the things The New York Times told me I would feel but I never smoked much. I always knew I would think about it more when I gave it up. I know very few people who smoke in New York but I’m scared I might begin again as I associate New York with smoking.
I also associate it with Rock Hudson, Doris Day and Tony Randall–all in my big bathroom. They’re forever young and probably smoking. I associate New York with a worldiness and sophistication I don’t think ever existed during my tenure in Manhattan.
If you had told me in my 20’s and 30’s during the 70’s and 80’s I would have wanted to have been a part of that life I would have laughed. Except that I watched a Cary Grant movie on my 9″ black & white TV one day in my 20’s and fell in love. It was the first time I liked a man who didn’t have long hair and it shocked me.
It took me another seven or so years to actually date somebody with short hair. I had to live with Zachary first. He cured me of many things including a love for long haired men, men in the arts, dependent men, and I could go on.
He smoked. My house was a giant ashtray with butts and roaches. The one who came after Zachary smoked too–anything also but he was a professional with a lot of money and James Dean hair.
After him came the six month to two year one night stands. Or men I wouldn’t bring home to meet my family. The non smoking crusade was in full force and most of my friends had given it up.
Girls who blew smoke in guy’s faces were no longer considered sexy. My smoking was more a private thing and pretty much given up in the 90’s. I thought 9/11 gave me license to smoke more and so I did. It didn’t of course. The further we go from that time the more I realze how many of us used it to satisfy urges that we personally wouldn’t normally have condoned.
Writing this I went from thinking it would be great to share a cigarette with Obama to thinking it gross. I would probably be too timid to open my mouth anyway.
I don’t think of myself as a non smoker. Though I only smoked three cigarettes a day–sometimes more, sometimes less, I now understand the concept of “recovering.” I am a recovering smoker and will always be one.
I could have done this in 85 when everybody I knew joined an A group, if not for a real addiction to meet people.
Coulda woulda shoulda–oh that’s a Hill and Bill thing and I so wish people would stop writing articles about how women should like Hillary Clinton. I’m not in the mood to whine about Hillary. I might have reason to celebrate later or tomorrow. So I will just revel in the thought of not smoking with Obama.
I hope to be an official resident of South Carolina by October so I can vote here and my entire vote will count for the first time. I don’t know if I can stand so much excitement. it will feel as if I’m voting for president for the first time.