The Smoking...
The Smoking...
An excerpt of "Alice's Big Book of Mistakes," a graphic memoir. PLUS: a Friday Open Thread about our smoking habits, and quitting.
Readers,
Recently I read Alice’s Big Book of Mistakes, Oldster Magazine Questionnaire-taker
’s smart, funny new graphic memoir.The chapter on smoking felt like something very relatable to share with all of you —and a springboard for a Friday Open Thread about our smoking habits, and whether and how we’ve quit.
In the comments please tell me…
How old are you? Do you smoke cigarettes—or cigars, or a pipe? Did you ever? How did you start? For how long did you smoke? How many cigarettes a day did you smoke? What was your brand? Have you quit? If you haven’t, why not? If you have quit, was it hard to? How did you do it? Do you ever still crave cigarettes? How do you deal with those cravings? Feel free to answer as many of these questions as you’d like.
Me, I’ve never smoked a single cigarette in my life. I know—it’s very weird. It just never appealed to me, or even made sense. I was a pretty well-behaved child, so when I was told smoking was bad for me, and warned not to do it, I simply complied.
But I grew up in the 60s and 70s surrounded by smokers. My parents smoked when I was little. My maternal grandfather went through a carton every two days or so, so, like…five packs a day? He always had a cigarette in one hand. Come to think of it, most of my friends and family smoked at some point, then stopped.
I would closely observe the smokers around me and wonder what they were getting out of puffing on those glowing sticks. I was fascinated by their habits — how they lit their cigarettes and savored the first drags, how they blew smoke out of their noses, or made rings with their mouths, where they kept their smokes — my mom’s close friend had a special tan leather purse for them. There was something mesmerizing about watching her open the clasp, take out a fresh one, and light up.
Unfortunately all that time around smokers means I’ve taken in more than my share of second-hand smoke. At my second job out of college in 1987, as a reporter at WWD/W on East 12th Street, my desk was situated directly across from that of the receptionist, who chain-smoked so heavily most of her teeth fell out. She was like a walking PSA about the ills of cigarettes. (Smoking in offices, restaurants, and on mass transit wasn’t yet banned. There were still smoking cars on the LIRR, on which I commuted from Long Beach to my job in Greenwich Village.)
Most of the smokers I’ve known have quit. Those who haven’t say they wish to, noting how bad we now know smoking to be for our health (and our looks), and that nicotine is one of the most difficult addictions to quit. I’m glad I never started!
Your turn…
How old are you? Do you smoke cigarettes—or cigars, or a pipe? Did you ever? How did you start? For how long did you smoke? How many cigarettes a day did you smoke? What was your brand? Have you quit? If you haven’t, why not? If you have quit, was it hard to? How did you do it? Do you ever still crave cigarettes? How do you deal with those cravings? Feel free to answer as many of these questions as you’d like.
Okay, now onto that chapter of Alice Kaltman’s graphic memoir, Alice’s Big Book of Mistakes…
 | A guest post by
|
I started smoking at 14 as part of a pathetic attempt to be cool. It was a match made in heaven. Marlboros were the brand at my high school. Alas, I didnt achieve coolness, but nicotine was a good friend, making all sorts of social situations easier. Smoking also made me sick. I had head colds that lasted all winter. And every item of clothing smelled awful. By the time I got to college I began trying to quit. Sometimes I’d make it a month and then I’d find myself at a party, bum a smoke and then I’d be back to a pack a day. Once I quit for a year. I transitioned to Camel Lights, telling myself this was an improvement, also I loved the packaging. Finally, when I began to think about having a baby I knew I had to divorce myself from nicotine and I can confirm that it was ibe of the hardest things I’ve done. More than thirty years have passed since my very last smoke. Now —an annoyingly self-righteous ex-smoker—I cant stand the smell and find it suffocating to stand bear smokers. And yet, every so often, at the end of a very hard day, I might get a whiff from down the block…and while I still hate the smell, I wish in that moment that smoking wasnt toxic. And I find myself having to talk myself off the ledge until the weird urge passes. This addiction has taught me compassion for all those struggling with addictions to other substances. And for that I am grateful. I get a chest scan every few years. My only remaining vice is chocolate.
So many of us who are going to be addicts - drinking or smoking - start around fourteen, the worst years of self-loathing and social anxiety. Artistic types who'd prefer to be alone with a notebook and pen or pencil are forced into the nightmare of middle school hallways and cafeterias. The first time I quit drinking, at 22, I quit smoking. When I "relapsed' to smoking eight years or so later in graduate school, eventually I "took the first drink" too and immediately put myself into sixty days inpatient rehab. (I was a counselor with good insurance.) I've stayed sober from alcohol, but smoked on and off, usually in secret, using nicotine patches to keep the high without the smell and lung damage. Somehow about fifteen years ago, a beautiful woman half my age in NYC, then a smoking and sobriety companion, stopped smoking and told me I could too. Somehow I did stop. As with (for me) alcohol, just one drink or puff would haul me back. For years now, I soothe myself with writing, nature, awesome locally grown food, my two rescue cats and dog, yoga, piles of library books, and time with healthy loving friends.