My dirty little secret

Alright, let me explain.  My lack of blogs isn’t because I don’t feel like writing or anything, it’s just that there really hasn’t been much to report on to all my faithful readers.  I wanted to wait until I had something new to talk about—I’d hate to bore all you fabulous ladies (and gentleman too) with the same old song and dance every week!

Well, now there is something to share, and it’s a little sad.  I said from the get-go that I was going to share everything so that everyone can see (well, read) first hand what this is all like for a REAL person, not some girl that you don’t even know is real.  So, with that, comes the good, and now comes the bad.  Let me say too that I feel like a kid telling her parents the truth about something horrible they did, knowing how disappointed they will be when it’s all put on the table.  *Whew…deep breath*  OK, here it goes.

I smoked…a few times…ok, ok, more than a few, BUT less than 10 (as if that helps any).

 Alright, I give you all permission to groan, throw your hands up, flip me off—whatever suits your fancy.  Now let me explain myself before I get burned at the stake.

I went out with some friends down to KY and ran into this guy I knew from high school.  We were BS-ing for a bit and he was smoking, saying that he can’t believe he started again.  So I say how I’ve been clean since February, and like the little evil spawn of Satan, he hands me his cigarette and tells me to try it out.  Oh, how the soft smoke rings beckoned me—like little smoky fingers giving me the “come hither” gesture.  I looked over my shoulder, told one of my friends not to tell anyone, and I did it.   It was a menthol, different from my old Camel Lights, but wow, did it taste so smooth.  I was surprised how easy it was to inhale—it’s like the old adage about riding a bike.  So we finished that one off together and I went about my way.

I did pretty good, I didn’t ask for one to go, didn’t bum any from the people I was with…I just went on about the night like it didn’t even happen.  Well, we get home and now I got a hankering for another one, so I make them take me to the gas station ‘cause I wanted menthols.  So now I have purchased a pack.  Great job girl, way to jump off the bandwagon.

Well, I smoked a few that night and one in the morning to burn off the remnants of a headache (mind you I haven’t been drinking in a long time—didn’t take me much), but I had still had almost a full pack.  Later in the week I was soooooo hacked off about something, and I heard them calling to me.  It was like that snake charmer music was playing in my head, and wouldn’t you know it, out popped one of those cigarettes from the box in my purse.  I lit ‘er up and about choked.  It tasted like crap—absolute crap.  I seriously wanted to get sick.  How the heck did something taste like a little puff of heaven a few days ago, and now it tasted like pure poo?  So I got rid of them—I gave them to a gal at work the next day.

Alright, so now you are thinking, “Good job, you got rid of them!”  Don’t forgive me so fast.  I went out the following weekend, and my taste buds started craving one.  Of course, inebriated, I cave—and between the two weekend nights, I finish off a pack.  Now mind you, I feel like crap come Sunday.  My lungs feel like I sucked in a pound a concrete, and then I start feeling a little stuffy in the sinuses.

Then she comes in like a hurricane off the coast.  A sinus infection.  The one thing that can knock me out of the ballpark; the one thing that can take me out with a 1-2-3 punch.  Here is the thing, I haven’t had one since I quit.  Then I started thinking, I got them when I started smoking, then I remembered my throat would always close up when I helped my uncle strip tobacco.  Hmmm, something isn’t right here.  After looking back at when they started and talking with my doctor, we came to the conclusion that I am allergic to the tobacco plant, which in turn caused my sinuses to become inflamed, which ultimately resulted in my horrible sinus infections.

Talk about karma…and the answer to my medical history.  Those sorry S.O.B.’s were the reason I was sick 4-5 times a year with killer sinus infections.  That’s a b*tch if I’ve ever seen one.  So a dose of antibiotics and nasal meds later, I’m better, and questioning why I even did it in the first place.  I tell myself I can handle it just when I go out and have some spirits (that’s my fancy way of putting it) and that they obviously don’t appeal to me any other time, but I can’t keep telling myself that.  The good doc told me that I am too new to it, and the next thing you know I will be smoking a pack a day again.  Plus I can’t take the badgering from my parents—yes, even at 25 years of age, they still get to me.

Ugh, I hate it when everyone is right.  So that’s my confession.  That’s the ugly thing that I did.  Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.  I don’t know what is gonna happen next time I am out, but if one thing keeps me from picking up a pack of smokes, it will be my sinuses.  Well, that and getting my butt chewed by my parents and you guys.