I'm A Quitter, Winning Style.
I quit smoking a week ago, technically, if I make it through today, it will be 10 days. This isn't the first time I've attempted quitting. I quit once in high school for 6 months and both times I was pregnant. The pregnancies were easy quits. Hey I'm preggo, and the cancer sticks were gone. No questions asked, no problem. I was already an emotional mess so what did it matter that I couldn't smoke? The rage doubled, but I survived.
But the urge never went away. The fatter (read: more pregnant) I got, the more I couldn't wait for it to be over so I could have a vodka, club soda and extra lime, and a cigarette. I fantasized about that day like I imagine some of you fantasized about those vagina balls when you read 50 Shades of Gray. (Short rant: Those books may have been a little racy for some, but basically Christian Gray is a total control freak abusive asshole and it took everything I had not to try and contact E.L. James and tell her that she writes like a horny 7th grader. Inner fucking Goddess?!! A piece of me died every time I read that phrase. Every. Single. Time. I am still not a fully functional human being after reading that book.) So of course, a little after my girls were born, I was able to have my drinks, which led to me wanting a smoke. And smoke I did. Damn it.
I picked up the habit young. My mother never discouraged it, as she was a smoker herself. We can't be a hypocrite, now can we? But, since I lived with my father, I had to keep it secret. To this day, I don't think he realizes I smoke ( I will say I still smoke until I have a few months without them). It would break his heart and if there's one thing in life that absolutely kills me, it's making my father disappointed. But, in the spirit of full disclosure, I need to write this, which means there's a good chance he will find out. He's not an internet man, at least I don't think so, but if he is, and you're reading this padre, I'm sorry, and I'm trying. I'M REALLY FUCKING TRYING THIS TIME. Sorry for typing fuck too. Actually dad, mine probably isn't a blog you should read most of the time. I'll let you know which posts are safe. Love you.
I've learned a few things over the years about my smoking. First, I actually don't smoke that much during the day. I may have one or two. I simply don't have the time to sneak outside when I have a toddler on the loose. I don't smoke in my car because there are always kids in it. I mostly stick to having a few cigs at night when the girls are sleeping. Mostly. Now, if you throw alcohol into the mix, forget it. Over a week ago I drank like 10 beers and proceeded to chain smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in about 4 hours. Totally disgusting. I woke up hungover with a sore throat and decided that was fucking it. Lesson learned.
I cannot drink alcohol and expect to quit. It's just not going to happen. So as it stands today, I also haven't had a sip of alcohol in 10 days. Not a single drop. I haven't had too much trouble with this part as the only alcohol in my house is a few cans of Budweiser (WTF Jon?) and some Strong Bow cider. There is also a nasty ass half bottle of some sort of red wine in the fridge. Ughh, it's gross. We have liquor, but I hate whiskey and rum gives me indigestion. The only tempting thing in the house is a beautiful bottle of Kettle One my Secret Santa (my BIL, Matt) got me for Christmas. You guys, the bottle is enormous. It's probably the biggest bottle you can buy. I put it beside my laundry basket for scale.
Isn't it huge?! And yes, my bro-in-law had his wife write my name as Justin on the card. Turd. Anyway, so this is the only tempting alcohol in my house. However, the bottle is SO huge that I don't even want to open it. I don't know how I would pour a drink! Plus, I like the way it looks all filled up and purty-like.
I decided to not have any alcohol for a month so I can really give this whole quitting thing a fair chance. After that, I'm not sure what I will do. What I do know is that I don't want to fuck this up again. I don't want to be a smoker anymore, even though I LOVE them. And that's not an exaggeration. I love cigarettes. If I could smoke all day, everyday without any consequences, I would. Oh lordy, would I. But that's not the case. They stink, they are slowly killing me, and I don't want my girls to ever know what a fucking cigarette looks like. I had to say goodbye. It's for the best. But I need your help, guys and dolls. I need you to remind me how horrible they are. I need you to tell me I don't need them. I need you to slap the shit out of me if you see me with one. Okay, not really, because if you slap the shit out of me I will cry. Like, a lot. Please don't do that. I just need your help. Inspire me with all the ways I am benefiting from quitting. Tell me I'm doing a great job. Make me feel like this is the right choice. Check in once in a while with a Hey Justine, still off those cancer sticks?
And to all of my beautiful smoker friends out there: I don't judge you. I want to be you. I want to be laughing with you at the bar, all surrounded with horrible air chemicals, just a smokin' away without a care in the world. I love you and will smoke vicariously through you. I just have to love me more, and gots to do what I gots to do. Nothing but positive thoughts and vibes my lovelies.