Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Quitting Smoking--Day Four or Something Like That
Warning: there is a teeny weenie obscenity in here so if you think you might be offended, skip this one.
I don’t believe that anyone feels this bad when they quit smoking. It’s something like the third day now and I still can’t function.
Now it’s the fourth day and I still can’t function. All I’m doing is sleeping when I’m not ripping heads off. Ripping heads, rolling heads. But not giving head. Who’s in the mood when you want to die?
Ut! I just hurt Kelly’s feelings and now I can’t write! I just woke up and wanted to get some of these thoughts down and she came over and wanted me to look at something she was doing, making cards for people or something, and I said, “Not now, I’m writing.” She walked away sad. I was going to say, “She walked away dejectedly.” But that’s not the way I speak. Actually, I should say that’s not the way I talk. I’m a little cranky. I’m going to talk like I wanna talk. Wanna, wanna, wanna. You got a problem with that? Okay, so I considered saying, “She walked away disappointed.” I wouldn’t have said that either. I would have just said, “She walked away sad.” So I said it.
Anyway, I feel guilty. Now I can’t write. Now my stomach is clenching up. I was feeling pretty good there for a while but now I feel like crap again…
Okay, so I just called her back. “What do you want to show me?”
Kids are very forgiving.
Now that that’s over with. Okay, let’s see. I don’t think people realize how bad this is for some people. Maybe I’ll go into some examples of why I’m a bad one another time. All right, here’s one. I could never take a job where I couldn’t smoke freely. Hence, my bartending career. Some people might think, “Oh, she must have been a big drinker.” Nope. I was never a drinker. Could care less about drinking. One of the reasons I liked that job was because I could smoke my brains out while doing it.
One time I almost set my horse on fire. Horse. Not house. The head of the cigarette got lost in his mane. Yikes! I had to jump off real fast.
A lot of women stop smoking when they’re pregnant. I was always jealous of that. Even though I was super duper Earth Mother who worked in a health food store and ate only organic, whole foods, heavy on the vegetarian; and delivered my children with the help of a midwife who wore Birkenstock sandals and patchouli perfume; and breastfed until they were able to drink from a cup because I wasn’t putting any crap formula into their precious bodies; I continued to smoke. I’ll never forget seeing a notation on the midwife’s ledger right after we had Kelly: “Baby crying, parents outside smoking cigarettes, grandmother trying to console baby.”
It’s always gone against everything that I am.