Confessions of a smoker by Lora Pfundheller.

I am a smoker by choice. Nobody has ever forced me to light a cigarette. I smoke because I like it. Maybe I even need to smoke. I know I am hooked. I blame nobody but myself. I could quit, but I don't want to. Being a smoker is part of who I am.
I started smoking when I was fourteen years old. I loved it right away. I stole my first cigarette from the suitcase of my visiting grandmother. That first smoke was wonderful and awful, all at once. It made me light-headed and slightly nauseous. My heart began to race, and I broke out in a cold sweat. I felt energized but also oddly soothed. Smoking made me feel simultaneously calm and focused. I had been around smokers all my life, and I felt ready to be initiated into the ranks. In my eyes, I had taken my first steps on the road to adulthood.

The ritual of selecting a cigarette, lighting it and taking that first drag was magical to me. It never occurred to me that I was igniting the fire of addiction. I'm not sure I would have avoided smoking in any case. In those times, smoking was accepted, even admired in some circles. Although it shocks me now, students at my high school were allowed to smoke, and even had a designated area to do so. The school didn't require parental permission, although several of us smoked with our parents' knowledge and consent. We were growing up, and smoking was simply a rite of passage.
I fully expected to be forced to quit when I joined the Army. I was delighted to discover that I wasn't expected to give up my favorite habit. On the contrary, we were given regular "smoke breaks", even in basic training. We were able to buy cigarettes at a deep discount at the PX. It almost seemed that we were being encouraged to smoke. Many people who were non-smokers when they entered the service had begun to smoke by the time they were finished with boot camp. I was surrounded by others who shared my vice, and life was good.
I confess to smoking throughout my first two pregnancies. I thought about quitting during the second, but when I consulted my doctor he told me it was a bad idea. My body, according to him, was accustomed to nicotine, and it would be dangerous to go through withdrawal while pregnant. I was happy with this advice, and resolved to ignore the dirty looks I sometimes caught from strangers. After all, I had my doctor's blessing, and that was all I needed.
After smoking for eleven years, I decided to quit. I set a date, and told my friends.
They all encouraged me, but I could see they didn't really believe I would do it. I happen to possess a large stubborn streak. I was determined to prove them all wrong. I quit, cold turkey. I employed all kinds of tricks to keep myself from lighting up. When I felt the urge, I would do the dishes or bathe the kids, as it is virtually impossible to smoke with wet hands. The dishes sparkled, and the kids were waterlogged for months, but I didn't smoke. I found myself enjoying the taste of food more, and I liked the way my home and clothing smelled. I was successful! I stayed off cigarettes for ten years. Actually, that isn't entirely true. I had a number of lapses. When my grandmother passed away, I took up smoking for about a week to get me through the wake and funeral. When I was stressed or upset or nervous, I would secretly buy a pack of cigarettes and puff away. When I went to Florida to visit my mother or hung out with my favorite cousin, I inevitably ended up smoking with them. These instances didn't happen often, but I felt guilty each time. I vowed never to do it again. I rationalized my behavior by calling it an occasional indulgence, but the truth was that I missed it and I never stopped thinking of myself as a smoker.
After the birth of my last child, I gave in. I was married to a smoker, and my friends all smoked. I didn't want to be left out, so I picked up the habit again. It felt like coming home. I enjoyed the social aspect of smoking with my friends. I looked forward to ending a good meal with a smoke. During the rough times, I felt I couldn't live without my cigarettes. I wondered why I had ever stopped.
I honestly enjoy smoking. That first drag is still magical. Cigarettes give me comfort during bad times and make good times even better. Like every other smoker Ive encountered, I understand the health problems smoking can cause. I know it is a bad habit that may someday kill me. I know I should quit. Mostly, I don't care. I accept the risk. Many life choices are unhealthy, and nobody lives forever. I try to be responsible and considerate with my habit. I don't smoke in my house, or in the car when the kids are with me. I don't chain smoke. I don't smoke around non-smokers, unless they give me permission. I don't throw my butts on the ground. I try to minimize the effects of my choice on everyone around me. All I ask in return is the right to smoke in peace.
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By Actually, that isn't entirely true. I had a number of lapses. When my grandmother passed away, I took up smoking for about a week to get me through the wake and funeral. When I was stressed or upset or nervous, I would secretly buy a pack of cigarettes and puff away. When I went to Florida to visit my mother or hung out with my favorite cousin, I inevitably ended up smoking with them. These instances didn't happen often, but I felt guilty each time. I vowed never to do it again. I rationalized my behavior by calling it an occasional indulgence, but the truth was that I missed it and I never stopped thinking of myself as a smoker.
After the birth of my last child, I gave in. I was married to a smoker, and my friends all smoked. I didn't want to be left out, so I picked up the habit again. It felt like coming home. I enjoyed the social aspect of smoking with my friends. I looked forward to ending a good meal with a smoke. During the rough times, I felt I couldn't live without my cigarettes. I wondered why I had ever stopped.
I honestly enjoy smoking. That first drag is still magical. Cigarettes give me comfort during bad times and make good times even better. Like every other smoker Ive encountered, I understand the health problems smoking can cause. I know it is a bad habit that may someday kill me. I know I should quit. Mostly, I don't care. I accept the risk. Many life choices are unhealthy, and nobody lives forever. I try to be responsible and considerate with my habit. I don't smoke in my house, or in the car when the kids are with me. I don't chain smoke. I don't smoke around non-smokers, unless they give me permission. I don't throw my butts on the ground. I try to minimize the effects of my choice on everyone around me. All I ask in return is the right to smoke in peace. Actually, that isn't entirely true. I had a number of lapses. When my grandmother passed away, I took up smoking for about a week to get me through the wake and funeral. When I was stressed or upset or nervous, I would secretly buy a pack of cigarettes and puff away. When I went to Florida to visit my mother or hung out with my favorite cousin, I inevitably ended up smoking with them. These instances didn't happen often, but I felt guilty each time. I vowed never to do it again. I rationalized my behavior by calling it an occasional indulgence, but the truth was that I missed it and I never stopped thinking of myself as a smoker.
After the birth of my last child, I gave in. I was married to a smoker, and my friends all smoked. I didn't want to be left out, so I picked up the habit again. It felt like coming home. I enjoyed the social aspect of smoking with my friends. I looked forward to ending a good meal with a smoke. During the rough times, I felt I couldn't live without my cigarettes. I wondered why I had ever stopped.
I honestly enjoy smoking. That first drag is still magical. Cigarettes give me comfort during bad times and make good times even better. Like every other smoker Ive encountered, I understand the health problems smoking can cause. I know it is a bad habit that may someday kill me. I know I should quit. Mostly, I don't care. I accept the risk. Many life choices are unhealthy, and nobody lives forever. I try to be responsible and considerate with my habit. I don't smoke in my house, or in the car when the kids are with me. I don't chain smoke. I don't smoke around non-smokers, unless they give me permission. I don't throw my butts on the ground. I try to minimize the effects of my choice on everyone around me. All I ask in return is the right to smoke in peace.
Actually, that isn't entirely true. I had a number of lapses. When my grandmother passed away, I took up smoking for about a week to get me through the wake and funeral. When I was stressed or upset or nervous, I would secretly buy a pack of cigarettes and puff away. When I went to Florida to visit my mother or hung out with my favorite cousin, I inevitably ended up smoking with them. These instances didn't happen often, but I felt guilty each time. I vowed never to do it again. I rationalized my behavior by calling it an occasional indulgence, but the truth was that I missed it and I never stopped thinking of myself as a smoker.
After the birth of my last child, I gave in. I was married to a smoker, and my friends all smoked. I didn't want to be left out, so I picked up the habit again. It felt like coming home. I enjoyed the social aspect of smoking with my friends. I looked forward to ending a good meal with a smoke. During the rough times, I felt I couldn't live without my cigarettes. I wondered why I had ever stopped.
I honestly enjoy smoking. That first drag is still magical. Cigarettes give me comfort during bad times and make good times even better. Like every other smoker Ive encountered, I understand the health problems smoking can cause. I know it is a bad habit that may someday kill me. I know I should quit. Mostly, I don't care. I accept the risk. Many life choices are unhealthy, and nobody lives forever. I try to be responsible and considerate with my habit. I don't smoke in my house, or in the car when the kids are with me. I don't chain smoke. I don't smoke around non-smokers, unless they give me permission. I don't throw my butts on the ground. I try to minimize the effects of my choice on everyone around me. All I ask in return is the right to smoke in peace.

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