I’m doing quite well, actually. Excellent planning on my part – if I “need” a cigarette, I do a shot. Which is why I can’t remember most of yesterday.
(Kidding, kidding, I remember. And I have photos AND a DVD of the whole thing as a back-up plan. Obviously, NO, I did not jump. The helicopter was enclosed.)
I do have this childish need for validation from the non-BF about the whole quitting-smoking-thing. It took me seven times asking him yesterday, “Aren’t you proud of me???” before he finally answered with a sigh, “Yes, I am proud of you.”
I’m just smiling all Chesire-catty-like, about to say, “Good, now buy me a baby goat,” and he says, “But you’ll cave tonight.”
That was a challenge. Don’t tell me I can’t do something because it just makes me want to prove you wrong. Especially, YOU, non-BF.
“It really wasn’t a challenge,” says the non-BF, who needs to stop fucking READING OVER MY SHOULDER! “I’m just going on your track record.”
What is he thinking, pushing that shit while I’m in the worst day of withdrawal???
How do I know Day Three is the worst? I’ve quit at least 19 times already. Here are the stats:
- Made it six months – 2 times
- Made it one – three days – 17 times or so, I lost count
Okay, so those 17 times or so do not count. I’m totally going with “third time’s the charm” on this attempt.
And I really, really need to end this post because all this stupid cigarette smack talk is making me want to go hunt some down. Cigarettes, not people. Just wanted to clarify that.
I can do it, I can do it.
(But really, people, who the hell quits smoking on VACATION?)