Bye Bye Smokey Joe

So, after ten years of smoking, I’ve decided to have a bash at giving up.

This will be the first time I’ve really bothered trying. From the first puff of a shared Silk Cut at the age of 15, through the 20+ Lambert and Butlers I would consume on a daily basis while at university, to the beautifully hand rolled ciggies of the last four years, I’ve never really considered quitting, because I didn’t want to. And I still don’t want to, really – not least because the politically correct bastards that spend so long ostracising smokers throughout the country have only made me more determined to exercise my own free will. Well, that and the fact that smoking feels so damn good. But here we are. Unfortunately I told someone rather important that I’d give it my best shot and I’m not one to go back on my word.

Which is why I’m announcing my intentions here, to the world. I figure I’m more likely to succeed if I’m living in fear of judgement and heart wrenching looks of disappointment. But how the hell does one ‘succeed’ in giving something up? How do you know when you’ve done it, if there’s always the possibility that you could do it again? It’s like measuring the invisible.

Nonetheless, existential debate aside, New Year’s Day was wonderfully marred by my impotent fury with the world and everything that had the misfortune to fall into my line of vision, and last night plagued by unsettling nightmares produced by a fraught brain panic-stricken at its deprivation of a chemical upon which it has been dependent for the last 3650-odd days and nights; so today I dutifully stormed into Boots like a junkie in search of a fix, to find something to ‘take the edge off’. I have returned with a device that can only be likened to a plastic tampon, the sucking of which is supposed to be akin to ‘a real smoking experience’. I’m rather inclined to disagree with this, but desperation is a powerful emotion, and as my housemates cower in terror behind the door to ask in tiny voices if I’d like a cup of tea, I expect I’d better just get the hell on with it.


2 thoughts on “Bye Bye Smokey Joe

  1. joshgardner says:

    I hear ya, though I must say I’ve found it surprisingly ok so far – moods and general rage have been no more prevalent than usual, dreams have indeed been interesting, but well, that’s just fun innit?

    The routine has been the real killer for me though, not being able to have a fag to pass the time is just killing me. How do people wait for things, go to pubs and generally exist without fags? It’s just so fucking boring. Oh well, the days of being cool smokers were rapidly diminishing anyway…

  2. Good for you, girl.

    I wish you best of luck with it. Supposedly the three-day hump is the worst but then it gets better. I don’t know – I wasn’t addicted enough to miss them when I stopped.

    Lots of gum, patches, and your, er, plastic tampon!

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