Well, I'm into my second
week as a non-smoker, and guess what, the nicotine patch is a f*cking
miracle. If I didn't have this little bugger I'd be smoking again by
now, or implicated in a homicide (possibly a double homicide) or,
failing either of those options, I would've popped a freakin' eyeball
at some point. In between my grandmother going back to the hospital
with pneumonia, those chain-smoking biznatches I live with sending me
out to buy their f*cking cigarettes (unfair), a root canal and
general smokelessness, this has not been the easiest of weeks.
Nevertheless, I prevail.
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| Me and my lollipops, my lollipops and me. |
Actually, I'm on Jolly
Ranchers now, for a change of pace, and also because they have half
as many calories apiece. Never said I wanted to get fat. I tried
toothpicks for awhile, but it just wasn't the same. For one thing,
they taste of wood.
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| They're better with beer than lollipops, though. |
I've also taken up (well,
reprised) yoga and meditation, because I need to chill the f*ck out
before I rip somebody's face off.
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| Indeed. |
Every time I picture myself
smoking a cigarette, I revise that image to one of me holding a
lollipop.
Progress so far:
My skin still looks like crap. I'm not sure if it's supposed to improve or not, but I sure hope it does.
Breathing appears to be
easier, or at least it was when I was jogging the other day.
I can't tell if I'm
irritable because I've quit smoking, or if the people around me truly
are irritating, or both.
I have fought down the urge
to slap whoever happens to be within easy reach exactly 3,427 times.
(That's 28.5 times an hour, not counting the hours I've been asleep).
Crazy dreams have made an
appearance, but then again I always have some pretty crazy dreams,
like the one where Paula Deen was my personal chef. These dreams,
however, have protagonists, antagonists, narrative devices, and
coherent plots. They're organized, cinematic, and even largely
realistic.
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| Normally, my dreams look more like this. ~ John Haynes Photography |
The sneezing has subsided,
but I still haven't coughed anything up. The chain-smokers think that
this is because I didn't smoke that much. Either that, or the coal
dust in my lungs is maintaining the status quo.
My friend Amberr, who is on
her fourth day today, said on her blog that she's been sweating out a
bunch of nasty toxins. That hasn't happened to me. As far as I can
tell, my perspiration smells as it's always done – of goulash.
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| Well, it smells of goulash to me, anyway. ~ m.louis |
Everyone keeps
congratulating me, which seems a little pre-emptive. I mean, not to
undermine myself or anything, but I've totally refrained from smoking
for longer than a few days in the past and still managed to start
again. I'm just being realistic, there's still plenty of time to f*ck
up. On the other hand, it's really sweet of them to be so positive
and supportive.
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| Or maybe they're just afraid. |
