While I was growing up, all the important men in my life were smokers; my late babysitter who was affectionately called my other father, my late grandfather and most importantly of all, my dad. Even as a child, I loved the way the tobacco smells like as they light up and the scent of the first puff of smoke was heavenly. Of course, they’d never let me have a puff so it wasn’t that great of a surprise that to satisfy my curiosity, I picked up smoking too though I did it behind their backs. God forbid their illusion of their sweet, little first born be shattered by a loud, obnoxious, smoking bitch telling off-colour jokes with relish.
I was a sporadic social smoker and I enjoyed every single stick I had. I loved the way the smoke filled my lungs, the way my fingers smelled (that always reminded me of my dad) and the way I felt afterwards. It was only after I realised the correlation between the smokes and my acne (more smokes = more pimples) that I stopped.
It’s been a many years since the last stick and I’m keeping it that way. This is not to say that I don’t crave it at all. There are times when the cravings get really bad , usually when I’ve been having a bad day or I’m feeling depressed. It’s hard work not giving in to the temptation as I know that once I start, I’ll be chain smoking until my hands start shaking too much that I can’t light the next stick from the amount of nicotine, tar and other chemicals I’ve inhaled.
It’s ironic that after being a former smoker for so many years, I’ve developed an aversion to cigarette smoke. I’d develop this itch in my throat and can’t help but cough until I choke. It’s worse in the morning when I have yet to fill my lungs with the polluted air from the construction sites and the big roads I have to pass to get to the office. I absolutely hate it now when I walk into a puff of smoke. It makes me want to jam that stick up the person’s nose and see how they like having that stuff up their nose. I feel like such a hypocrite being one of those people not that long ago but that’s how it is. I can’t stand the smoke now and I’m forever grateful that my dad decided to quit smoking a few years back. At least I don’t have to endure the smoke torture at home.