My smoke-free life

The doctor sat me down and told me that I need to listen to what he is going to tell me very, very carefully and consider it very, very seriously. In a gesture of amity, I leaned forward slightly and pricked my ears.

Punctuated with a dramatic pause between each word, he enunciated: "You. Have. To. Stop. Smoking."

My ears dropped instantly. And they stayed down throughout his following 20 minutes long diatribe on the statistics of death by cigarettes.

Coming out of the consultation room in a daze, I received an sms from my dad almost instantaneously: "SO, DID HE REMIND YOU TO STOP SMOKING?"

(ARGHHHHH! I knew that they were in cahoots!!)

I replied, "YES LAR"

So, that was about a month ago and here's a quick summary of Frou's ensuing smoke-free life:

1. Food tastes better
2. Waistline is bigger
3. Handbag is lighter

And top of the list:
4. Frou is a lot grumpier.

I look back at all the things I miss about smoking and tried to pinpoint what exactly is the root of my cigarette dependency for the past decade. Was it the smell of burning tobacco? The taste of tar? The rush of adrenaline from first inhalation?

But I have a nagging suspicion that my addiction is not a chemical one. Meaning it wasn't the tar and nicotine that I missed but the whole lifestyle surrounding smoking.

It is the trite act of holding a ciggie between my fingers and bringing it to my lips randomly. It is the sweet relief I get from exhaling the smoke after a long drag at the end of a meal. It is the joy of cruising down a highway with one hand hanging out of my car-window holding a ciggie. It is the perfect companion to drinking - you hold your gin & tonic with one hand and the other, your cigarette. Now what do I do with the free hand? Eat peanuts? (See point No. 2 above)

And because it is a 'lifestyle' addiction, quitting is a lot easier - because all you need to do is change your lifestyle. Less partying, less alcohol and more peanuts. In fact, I spent two hours ironing clothes last Saturday. I never iron clothes. I don't know how to iron clothes. But it keeps the hands busy, you see.

29 days and counting...