Stories My Blog Photos Links About me

2001-04-17

Smoke Rings

Man, I feel like poo. So, I haven�t been smoking, and my body is having a time of it, purging all those toxins, I�ve been coughing like crazy, get it out, get it out! But this morning, the toxins have the best of me. The coughing has subsided a bit, but I just feel icky. I called my boss this morning at home, said, �Alright, I have a fever, but I also have an appointment with a client that I don�t want to cancel. What do I take, quick!� I sucked down some Tylenol and some Dayquil (double-up, baby), and here I am, waiting for our Regional Manager to show up before we go visit a national contracted client. Yippee. I think I�m going home after that. Sleep it off. Drink it out. It�s me, my water and my pillow at this point in my mind. Aaah. However, my pseudoephedrine just kicked in a bit. That shit always makes me feel high.

Let me be shallow for a minute. Despite my feeling of ickyness, I truly did a fabulous job on my eye makeup. It�s a good thing I got out of the house, wouldn�t want perfectly even liquid liner with just the right shades of lavender and gray shadows to go to waste, oh no. Tell you the truth, that�s the only reason I�m out and about right now. If the face went to shit as well, I wouldn�t have stepped foot out of my door this morning.

But I digress. Back to this whole smoking thing. I wasn�t trying to quit, and it�s only been a handful of days since I had a cigarette. Now, I�m battling my mind and body. I mean, it�s going through all this work to clear itself out, cough that shit out, help me breathe. It started simply enough. I didn�t feel like one the other day. Then, a few days went by, and I still didn�t feel like one. Then all this fucking coughing, and I definitely don�t feel like one. I never wanted to quit, because it seemed so final. What if I felt like one? Why should I hold myself to things? If I told people I was quitting, then I had one, what would they think? All these things were going through my head, and then my father called me last night.

He mentioned that when he had stopped by my place, he saw the ashtray outside. He said, �Would you stop smoking, as a personal favor to ME?� I have never been open with my family about that fact that I smoke. I never wanted to hear the lecture. But that simple request, with so much feeling behind it, at that moment, really got to me. And I said the words, and I�m not sure if I regret them or not. I said, �Funny you should mention that, Dad. I quit the other day.� For that moment, everything stopped, time stood still, I pictured a door slamming in my face, the door that closes on one option as soon as you make a decision to choose another one. Once you decide something, all other options go away. It�s not open anymore. I don�t want to say that I quit smoking, because then I�d be a liar and a hypocrite and a weakling with no will power if I ever had another cigarette. See, if you don�t make those kinds of promises, you don�t have to fear the consequences of breaking them.

But that�s what I did when I spoke with my father, I made a sort of promise. And only then, did I feel like having a cigarette. Only the moment I told myself I couldn�t, shouldn�t, that�s when I wanted one most. I didn�t have one, though, despite the pack that�s been sitting in my purse this whole time. It�s still there. This should be interesting. I was watching ER last week, and a man was told that he had a few months to live, that the lung cancer was irreversible. That night, I had a cigarette. And each time I inhaled, I pictured a black spot in my lungs growing a small percentage larger. If it�s true, if I�m not invincible, if smoking WILL cause me to get cancer, then why am I doing it? I�d hate to be in the hospital, family around me, eyes full of disappointment, mouths wanting to say, �I told you so,� anger in place of sympathy. We are angry at those who commit suicide. I don�t know how willing I am to take that chance anymore. I�m thinking more and more, that it�s just not worth it.

-Barbarella

previous | next

2007-05-19
NEW SITE!!!!

2007-05-16
Links and Update

2007-05-09
Two Links

2007-05-06
Yes, Even MORE new pictures

2007-05-06
Mizz Asshole

Copyright � 2004 divabarbarella.com All Rights Reserved about me - read my profile! read other DiaryLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!


San Diego Bloggers

Subscribe to BarbarellasBookClub
Powered by groups.yahoo.com
Smoke Rings 2001-04-17 9:15 a.m. Man, I feel like poo. So, I haven�t been smoking, and my body is having a time of it, purging all those toxins, I�ve been coughing like crazy, get it out, get it out! But this morning, the toxins have the best of me. The coughing has subsided a bit, but I just feel icky. I called my boss this morning at home, said, �Alright, I have a fever, but I also have an appointment with a client that I don�t want to cancel. What do I take, quick!� I sucked down some Tylenol and some Dayquil (double-up, baby), and here I am, waiting for our Regional Manager to show up before we go visit a national contracted client. Yippee. I think I�m going home after that. Sleep it off. Drink it out. It�s me, my water and my pillow at this point in my mind. Aaah. However, my pseudoephedrine just kicked in a bit. That shit always makes me feel high.

Let me be shallow for a minute. Despite my feeling of ickyness, I truly did a fabulous job on my eye makeup. It�s a good thing I got out of the house, wouldn�t want perfectly even liquid liner with just the right shades of lavender and gray shadows to go to waste, oh no. Tell you the truth, that�s the only reason I�m out and about right now. If the face went to shit as well, I wouldn�t have stepped foot out of my door this morning.

But I digress. Back to this whole smoking thing. I wasn�t trying to quit, and it�s only been a handful of days since I had a cigarette. Now, I�m battling my mind and body. I mean, it�s going through all this work to clear itself out, cough that shit out, help me breathe. It started simply enough. I didn�t feel like one the other day. Then, a few days went by, and I still didn�t feel like one. Then all this fucking coughing, and I definitely don�t feel like one. I never wanted to quit, because it seemed so final. What if I felt like one? Why should I hold myself to things? If I told people I was quitting, then I had one, what would they think? All these things were going through my head, and then my father called me last night.

He mentioned that when he had stopped by my place, he saw the ashtray outside. He said, �Would you stop smoking, as a personal favor to ME?� I have never been open with my family about that fact that I smoke. I never wanted to hear the lecture. But that simple request, with so much feeling behind it, at that moment, really got to me. And I said the words, and I�m not sure if I regret them or not. I said, �Funny you should mention that, Dad. I quit the other day.� For that moment, everything stopped, time stood still, I pictured a door slamming in my face, the door that closes on one option as soon as you make a decision to choose another one. Once you decide something, all other options go away. It�s not open anymore. I don�t want to say that I quit smoking, because then I�d be a liar and a hypocrite and a weakling with no will power if I ever had another cigarette. See, if you don�t make those kinds of promises, you don�t have to fear the consequences of breaking them.

But that�s what I did when I spoke with my father, I made a sort of promise. And only then, did I feel like having a cigarette. Only the moment I told myself I couldn�t, shouldn�t, that�s when I wanted one most. I didn�t have one, though, despite the pack that�s been sitting in my purse this whole time. It�s still there. This should be interesting. I was watching ER last week, and a man was told that he had a few months to live, that the lung cancer was irreversible. That night, I had a cigarette. And each time I inhaled, I pictured a black spot in my lungs growing a small percentage larger. If it�s true, if I�m not invincible, if smoking WILL cause me to get cancer, then why am I doing it? I�d hate to be in the hospital, family around me, eyes full of disappointment, mouths wanting to say, �I told you so,� anger in place of sympathy. We are angry at those who commit suicide. I don�t know how willing I am to take that chance anymore. I�m thinking more and more, that it�s just not worth it.