Smoking

I smoked to look good, to fit in with my new friends. Of course I didn’t like it at first, but I persevered and practiced in the mirror and before long I could inhale without coughing and crying. I was eighteen.
How silly to perfect something that would make me feel so bad a few years later and be so difficult to overcome.
Malboro reds were my first purchase, I didn’t know the difference in strengths but switched to the milder version once I worked it out.
Strangers would ask me for a light or a cigarette. I didn’t like the attention. If I had a few pounds in my pocket I had to decide between cigarettes or food. I lost weight in this time. Smoking took away my appetite and controlled my swinging blood sugar levels.
There was a new bond between myself and fellow students and work colleagues. At university I fitted in with the cool rebellious kids and their roll ups. Even if I didn’t want to smoke weed, at least I wasn’t totally sheltered.
When I started work, a cigarette was an excuse to have a break from the tedium and catch up on the gossip. I made friends in the smoking room and invitations to the pub followed. Drinking vodkas increased my need for the nicotine and soon I was on 20 a day. In those days we could smoke in pubs and clubs and if you couldn't beat them you had to join them.
My motivation to stop was when a good friend of mine had a baby and I didn’t want to kiss the baby with my ciggy breath. This effort lasted 18 months but a holiday and lots of booze weakened my resolve and I was back to puffing away.
Allen Carr helped me to stop the second time, lasting eight months and the third attempt was in 2004, again reading Allen Carr’s book while crying and shaking with the desire for a puff. So far so good apart from some naughty friends getting me drunk maybe once a year and encouraging me take one of their cigs.
I don’t want to go back to that habit. I have probably saved £4000 in this time.
And I don’t smell anymore.