My Love Affair

On my 17th birthday my love affair began. I was driving in the car with my best friend when she pulled from her purse a Virginia Slim Menthol cigarette. She lit up and glanced over at me. My mouth hung open. She offered me a drag. I said yes. The rest is history.

I was hooked. Now 18 years (I can't friggin believe it's been 18 years) later, I am still smoking. I love to smoke. I will admit that. There is really nothing about smoking that is detestable to me (other than lung cancer). I hear other people say that they hate the way it smells or tastes or whatever. I cannot relate.

The reason I am bringing this up is that it is time for me to quit, yet again. I always promised myself that I would quit once my children were old enough to know what I was doing. A. knows. She told me," Smoking kills." CRAP!! What are they teaching those kids in school these days. Why don't you say a rosary or something and leave the vices of your mother alone.

I have tried many times to quit. I have taken Wellbutrin (J. asked me to start smoking again), hypnosis, ear shocks and cold turkey. The only thing that seemed to work was getting pregnant. Since we have established that there will be no more children, I have to figure out another way.

So, here's my solution. I am addicted to Oprah and have been attempting to get on her show for years (giggle, giggle D. Yes, I remember the When We Were the Mulvaneys debacle). Anyhoo, I digress. There is a show coming up about quitting smoking and I am thinking of sending in a plea for help. I don't know why I have this insatiable need for attention, but I think that if Oprah can build a school in South Africa she can help me quit smoking. She's a friggin miracle worker.

Whether that works or not I know I gotta quit. My romance needs to be over. I need a new love. I hear the heroin market is hopping...