I Scoff At Those Who Thought I Couldn't Do It

Look in the right sidebar, just below the "About Fermented Fur" part and right above the awesome picture of my 2008 Maxwell Medal for Best Regular Blog.

Go. Look. I'll wait...

If you are any good at following instructions, you are now aware that I have quit smoking. I should sit back and humbly (and somewhat smugly) accept your congratulations and your words of encouragement and support... but I am not going to. Because - while I sincerely appreciate them - I don't need them.

I've been thinking about giving up cigarettes for a while now. It's not like I was unaware that smoking is a wee bit unhealthy. I mean, we have the Surgeon General's Warning on every pack, and they recently added words on the little cellophane strip you tear off to open the pack that tells you that "light" and "ultra light" doesn't mean cigarettes are safe. You know, like in case you're a total fucking moron and thought "light" cigarettes wouldn't rot your lungs.

Every other commercial on television seems to be a "stop smoking" public service announcement. Which, I must admit, mostly succeeded in reminding me that it was time to fire up another cigarette. Being me, I took a perverse pleasure in that. (Hey, you self-righteous do-gooders, trying to good-up my life... screw you! If there's any goodening to be done around here, I'll do it my own self and in my own time, thankyouverymuch!)

Yep, lots of reasons to quit smoking. The deepening, increasingly-raspy voice. The cough that never quite goes away. The reluctance to smooch my honey-bunny because I'm aware of stinky cigarette face/breath. The nicotine staining on my fingers. Deepening lines around my mouth. No circulation in my feet. Yellowier-than-they-used-to-be teeth. A younger sister who had a heart-related incident earlier this year... and knowing that my mother died at 55 and that I will be 45 in less than two months. The fact that I've been paying about $5.37 per pack, and I have been smoking almost a pack a day. And I'm poor, so this is a stupid fucking waste of money.

Let's not forget, either, that it's kind of inconsiderate to poison your husband and your dogs with second-hand smoke.

Never underestimate the power of vanity. At least not as it pertains to me. My lungs may rot or my heart may seize up and stop... but those are future, abstract concepts (until they actually happen, then it's totally too late), and - most importantly - I can't see them. I can, however, see wrinkles and papery skin and I do not want to look any older than I have to.

This week something happened that gave me the last little nudge I needed to decide to quit. I learned that a friend died. She was my first online friend back in 1996 when I got my first computer. I had Ripley then, and she had Jean-Marie. The dogs were both golden retrievers and had had the same hip surgery, so this friend and I bonded over that. We stayed in touch all these years, part of the same small, invitation-only dog-chat list. We saw each other through joys and sorrows... even though we never met in person. We almost met in April when I was in Florida for The Boy's wedding to Wonderful Wife, but the 2-hour drive she'd have to make, combined with the small window of time I had free to visit, prompted her to say, "Oh, well, we'll do it next time."

But there isn't a next time, because she died of a very aggressive thyroid cancer. She wasn't a smoker, but she always begged me to quit. And as it turns out, she has remembered me in her will. I'll never be able to thank her for her kindness and generosity... but I can pay her tribute by quitting smoking.

So, I have. As of 5:00 PM on Saturday, November 14, 2009. (Which, coincidentally, is my younger sister's birthday and my older sister's anniversary!)

I've always believed that I'd have little trouble giving up cigarettes once I made up my mind to do so. My mom was helpless against her addiction, but my dad and older sister were able to simply put them down and walk away... and in the area of my addictive personality, I think I'm more like them. Turns out I was right. I'm a habit/ritual-based smoker more than someone who has overwhelming cravings. Do I want a cigarette right now? You bet. Do I need one? Nope. So I'm not having one. (Shoves a Werther's toffee candy in mouth instead)

It's probably way nicer to kiss someone whose mouth tastes like toffee than someone whose mouth tastes like an ashtray, don't you imagine?

I don't take this as a sign that my addictive personality is in any way changed. Smoking just wasn't as compelling to me as some other things. Willpower and I are barely passing acquaintances, and I know if I were truly addicted to smoking... this would be an entirely different blog post. For example, I know my alcohol problem won't be conquered nearly as easily as the smoking problem. That one, should I ever choose to address it, will be infinitely harder. For now, I'll settle for practicing moderation the best I can.

The good news is that, as a non-smoker, I'll be far less likely to burn holes in the Sofur (note to self... safe to buy new slip cover now) or set my hair on fire while drinking.

Sometimes you have to pick your battles and count your victories where you can. And I'm chalking up quitting smoking as a capital-V Victory.