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I Am A Dirty Reformed Smoker
I was 11-years-old when I had my first puff of a cigarette. I went to the back of the school field at lunchtime with two other girls and we each had a cigarette. If I remember correctly, it was a menthol cigarette so it's a surprise that I didn't decide right then and there to never smoke another cigarette ever. However, I spent the afternoon after school puffing on unfinished cigarette butts my Dad left in his multiple ashtrays in the garage.
I smoked sporadically until I was thirteen, every now and stealing a couple of fags out of my Dad's cigarette packet. When I started high school, I met a girl named Rochelle. When I was thirteen, you could buy packs of ten cigarettes. Rochelle and I would buy one 10-pack once a week and split it. Then I graduated to buying a whole pack of smokes with the money from my paper route. Then I got a part-time job that didn't involve me on a bike, and more money. The more money I had, the more smokes I smoked. By the time I was sixteen, I was smoking almost a packet a day. Tasty.
I've thought about quitting many times of the last few years, managing to stop for a little bit here and there, but always starting up again. The other times I said I was going to quit, I either started smoking milds (to cut back on the nicotine, apparently), started smoking roll-your-owns (after the New Zealand government increased the tax on cigarettes again, resulting in a 20-pack of Dunhills to be around the $10 mark, so I couldn't afford to smoke tailor-mades, apparently), or started smoking tailor-made milds again but limiting myself to only 3 per day (because I got a payrise, so I don't need to roll my own smokes anymore, apparently). I just never really got to the point where I wasn't actually smoking at all, and I always had an excuse for why I decided to stop giving up. I mean, I'd almost always smoked. My Dad smoked. My younger sister smoked. My friend Pip smoked. My boyfriends all smoked. I didn't know who I'd be if I was Ani Moller the Non-Smoker. Then my sister went and got herself pregnant and gave up smoking like that. It was as though she clicked her fingers and she didn't need to smoke anymore. And how my Mum loved that.
"So, Ani. How's giving up smoking going?"
It's pretty hard being around people who have recently quit. I'd be driving my sister somewhere and I'd go to light up a smoke in front of her, forgetting about the pregnancy thing.
"You can't smoke in front of me, Ani."
I tell you, there's nothing much worse than being told off by your baby sister for a habit that she, until very recently, also had. So, out of spite, I decided to give up (also, Ben and I joined the gym, and smoking and the gym doesn't go together).
I didn't think I needed to use any patches, or chew any rancid gum, so I went cold turkey. However, there was a method to my madness. I sat down and figured out when I smoked. My theory was that if I didn't do the things that made me want to smoke, I wouldn't have bad urges to smoke. This meant I could no longer drink coffee when I went to cafes (spirulina is so much better for you), I couldn't drink or go to bars (my social life was ruined), I couldn't drink coffee or tea as much at home especially in front of the computer (my website would never get updated now), and I couldn't hang around with smokers (no friends for me, and no leaving the building on teabreaks at work). It wasn't actually that hard, but it certainly left my social life in tatters. However, it did help that Ben also gave up smoking. If Ben hadn't, I think I wouldn't have bothered trying to give up. So anyway, back to my theory. My theory was pretty simple. It seemed pretty easy, so I don't think I was completely hooked on nicotine (it could have been all the milds I smoked during the years before quitting), and I was more of a habitual smoker than an addicted smoker. I took away what made me crave, and gradually stopped craving. It took a few months before I could drink without wanting a cigarette, or before I could have a coffee without wanting to light up a glorious Dunhill Mild, but it did work.
I gave up smoking. It all seemed pretty simple, but at a small cost. Now I am a dirty reformed smoker. I am one of what I disliked so much, only months ago. I am forever preaching about how great it is to give up smoking. I try to avoid going to smokey bars and other such places. I always sit in non-smoking. I whinge when Ben goes out for a few drinks and comes home stinking like an ashtray. If I'm sitting with a smoker and they ask if I mind if they light up, I always say yes. What have I become? I'm horrible, even if my Mother does love me.
Giving up smoking is a serious life-altering decision. You probably won't just end up the same person, sans fumée. You may get a whole new set of personal smoking laws, and you might have to stop hanging out with your smoking friends. However, I will tell you that it's worth it. My hair smells like shampoo, everything tastes 100 times better and my Mum can't complain any longer. |