Sunday, September 6, 2009

Smoking. And the grim reaper.

This commercial scares me.

[Update June 5, 2016: There used to be a scary smoking commercial here. Pretend it still is. For my sake.]

I've never smoked a cigarette in my life. Not one single puff. Although, I've inhaled enough second-hand smoke that claiming to have "never smoked a cigarette in my life" seems somehow misleading.

My step-dad smoked (smokes) two packs a day. I remember us driving home one night and he had to have a cigarette so bad that he rolled down all the windows, turned up the heat full blast, and lit up. The extreme combination of varying temperatures and cigarette smoke left quite a lasting impression. I don't remember where we were, where we had been, or what we had done... but I will always remember that drive.

My beautiful older sister got caught up in drugs when she was a teenager. One night she stole my mom's car and was thrown into a rehabilitation center. The next morning, as she spoke to my mom over the phone and I waited anxiously nearby, she said she didn't want to talk to me. She was too embarrassed.

She called me ten minutes later.

When I finally got to visit, I hid two of my mom's cigarettes in the bottom of a bag of candy and snuck them into her. And, I admit it... it made me feel cool.

When I was fourteen, I started stealing my parents cigarettes with some harebrained idea that if they thought I was smoking, I could use their worry and concern to negotiate a plan for us all to quit.

It didn't work.

Then there's The Husband. Also a smoker. (Go figure.)

He quit right after our honeymoon. One year later, as we sat in an airport bar waiting to board our flight to Florida where we would celebrate our first anniversary, he told me he had a confession to make. He had been lying to me. He had started smoking again three months ago.

I didn't talk to him during the entire flight.

Smoking is bad, peeps. I've never done drugs either, but I'd smoke pot before a cigarette any day of the week. (I am so not endorsing drugs here, I swear.)

But trust me. Death and the silent treatment? Not worth it.


  1. I'm so with you on this. My mom smoked from when she was 11 up to the point that she was so debilitated from it that she couldn't go out on her own to buy cigarettes. She suffered with emphysema and then lung cancer. She suffered horribly for many years. Not a good way to live or die.

  2. Ugh they are soooo gross. My dad smoked like 2 packs a day but I think he's cut down. I remember locking myself in my bedroom because I couldn't handle the smell. I had long hair then too and it would hold the stink if I was in the same room. I totally think that my relationship with my dad would be even stronger if he wasn't a smoker and I could tolerate being in the room with him longer. I HATE the smell of smoke. Ick.

  3. Ciggs are nasty. My old boyfriend was from Kentucky. His mom smoked --in the car with the windows closed and at the kitchen counter making chicken salad. I remember watching the long ash burn and wondering if it would drop into the mayonnaise. Ew. I hope the husband trys again.

  4. Smoking is disgusting. I used to smoke and quit when I met my boyfriend (about 3 years ago) and now I get sick from the smell. Also, I F@#$ing HATE it when smokers through their butts on the ground. Those are not bio-degradable people!! Would you throw your trash on the ground? No? Then don't throw cigarette butts either! K - ranting complete...

  5. I fell in love with a boy who smoked once. I was 14 years old at the time. He didn't give me the time of day so I thought he would fall madly in love with me if I smoked too. Yeah, I know.... STUPID!My smoking days only lasted one day, though. He definitely wasn't worth that kind of torture :)

  6. i totally agree. But I totally get it though, the addiction, that is. I recently quit. It's hard! Even if gross. here's my 3 month good-bye to them! but it kind of highlights the unhealthy relationship smokers have with their sticks.