The proverbial "they" say that when you quit smoking it can often times be like losing a loved one. This analogy may seem a bit extreme, but I know what they mean. There are times when the days are just a little bit lonelier.
Note: Please don't take this the wrong way. Suicide is so not my style... but writing humorous thoughts about life in the quit sucking lane has it's way of showing you whose listening and who is not.
I think this whole quitting cigarettes has been a very interesting social experiment. If you think about it, and I'm sure you have at some point, a smoker gets on average about 12 comments a day*, from people that don't smoke, insinuating that they care about your health and well being.
They WANT you to quit because it's good for YOU! Because you'll be happier, and healthier, and while we know that this is true,... we do it anyway and the non-smokers continue to roll their eyes, or strategically cough when they walk past you, but then something happens. You decide...maybe all these assholes were right. Maybe I should quit, and maybe then I won't have to worry as much about cancer and other terrible things and then people will want to go out more, and I won't feel so shitty about leaving the party to stand on the stoop...and then I won't have to get lectured every time I'm doing something I actually enjoy.
So then you quit, and then all the people that bitched at you for years about quitting...they're suddenly gone! They've Houdini'd themselves and all that shit about "I can't wait for you to quit smoking"... that voice makes you want to slam your fist down and say "Where the fuck are you? I did this shit and now what?! Where is my cookie!?" But then you don't say a word, because then you'd attract a lot of unwanted attention, and you can't smoke a cigarette afterwards so then you really would look crazy.
It's a little amazing to me that after all of this, people have very little to say. I even set up a blog and no one comments (my fantastic Aunt being the exception...and Mom...don't you dare.... and Dad...just continue to make comments at home...better fodder for this thing).
I think what it boils down to is this. People are insecure assholes. Assholes that love to meddle in other people's lives because they think they know best when the reality is they don't know shit. None of us do. Read my blog. Don't read my blog. I don't care. I quit because I'm scared shitless of the big C. It has nothing to do with other's comments, but it's amazing because I have a feeling...that everyone that told me to quit, secretly wished I wouldn't so they could keep criticizing my life choices to feel better about their own, and secondly because they wished they'd had the balls to do something reckless and dangerous and slightly irreverant. They wish they had the balls to say "I don't give a shit. I'm doing something I want to do and you can't stop me." And you know what...honestly...their loss. It's fun as hell, and you can't say you never tried it.
PS: I will read this later and think, "Shit I hope the people reading this don't think I'm an asshole" but I know you will, and I hope you'll forgive me. I wasn't talking about any of you. I'm talking about the people that don't read my fucking blog. Jeez... sensetive pricks. Get over it.
*Okay I made that statistic up...I'm a designer not a fucking research analyst.
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