Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

When I started smoking I was fourteen and thought Smurf t-shirts and absurdly wide-legged jeans were the height of fashion. I had pink bangs and an eyebrow ring. It was 1998 and a pack of cigarettes cost $2.50 and would last me about a week.

As of last month I was twenty-four years old. I no longer thought that wide-leg jeans were a good idea, though I would probably wear a Smurf shirt if it happened to be lying around. My hair was attempting to be its natural color, and all that remained of my eyebrow ring was a small scar above my left eye. It was 2008 and a pack of cigarettes cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $9.00 and would last me about a day.

You would think that I would be swimming in cash right now. I'm saving about $300 a month! How could I not be swimming in cash?

Search me. I've been trying to figure it out myself.

UPDATE: Hi, everyone. I'm an idiot. That $300? WENT TO CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.

Duh. Carry on....

I've been craving cigarettes more and more recently. Work has been stressful and annoying and exhausting, and just having an excuse to go outside would be amazing. "Hellooo? Addict coming through! Give me my fifteen minute break or give me death!" However, I am pleased to be quitting in light of the upcoming weather which boasts sunshine and highs hovering around the twenty degree mark.

No Thank you.

I'm still unable to find the PSA I mentioned in this post. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, please pass it along.

Over a Month...sort of

I bought my last pack of cigarettes on December 4th.

I was supposed to have my last cigarette on December 5th.

It hasn't exactly worked out that way.

After a month I feel like I'm supposed to be over this whole thing, but apparently not.

Last Saturday I smoked three and a half cigarettes.

On New Years Eve I smoked a number of very small hand rolled cigarettes. I'm not sure how many normal cigarettes that equals, but I know I should not have been smoking them.

Last night I had a few drags.

I feel like a jerk, mostly. For being all, "Woo, yeah! Cold turkey!" And then not going cold turkey. A friend of mine quit about twelve weeks ago and hasn't had one slip up. He didn't smoke as much as I did for as long as I did, but still. He makes me feel like a jackass.

I haven't joined the gym yet and I've smoked more in the last week then I did during the entirety of December.

Dammit.

The New Me

It is eight in the morning on new years day and I am about to see a woman I have not seen since I was sixteen. She is an ex girlfriend of a good family friend. From what I remember she is very nice. She has a child now. So that's something.

I want to be able to show something for the last seven years, other than longer hair and an inch or two. The only thing that creeps into my mind is: "I'm a smoker now!" Except I'm not. I want to be able to say, "I'm a college graduate!" But that isn't true either. Though that sentence is much more impressive than, "I'm in college!" or "I went to college!" which, while true, doesn't give the listener the full picture. But with smoking I can produce something. I can dump hundreds of used cigarette packs on a persons lap to prove that I've done something. I can't produce a diploma. All I have to show for six years of college is bags under my eyes and a love of sleep. These things are not impressive when presented.
"Please, please observe my puffy face and badly written papers. Pour over my less than stellar GPA. Marvel at my ability to stay a sophomore for over four years!"

Hundreds of packs of cigarettes give a much better picture.

"So what have you done since we last met?"
"I smoked a lot of cigarettes and drank a lot of beer."
"Have you really?? Please tell me all about it!"

At which point I dump a landfills worth of empty bottles and packs at her feet. That'll be charming!

As of Monday it will be a full month since I quit smoking. Sunday marks the last time I bought a pack of cigarettes.

Go me?