I must confess I continued chain smoking throughout her visit, shepherding her to Wrigley Field, paying $50 bucks for parking, leaving her with a vendor for safekeeping, etc, etc. "Oh, Kathleen, just stop it," she'd say of my puffing. But that took me a while.
I honestly thought I was inured this time around. I hadn't smoked for at least three and a half years. The smell of it from passersby made me turn up my nose.
Then came a shitstorm. I started buying packs of American Spirits for my managing editor so I could mooch off him in good conscience. I'd smoke a half cigarette at a time and tell myself I was at just two a day.
Fat fucking chance, and I can't believe how hard it is to quit yet again. It's been more than a month, and I'm stuck on the noxious, itchy patch with another shitstorm to deal with.
Don't go there, kids.
Read more from Resolution Week:
"NBA resolution: Walk less, not more" by Ted Cox
"Say you want a resolution?" by Tony Adler
"Rahm swears off swearing for 2012" by Steve Bogira
"A resolution for 2012: Watch more Indian movies" by Ben Sachs
"Nixon, Mayor Rahm, Herman Cain, and Pam Grier—only in the Reader!" by Ben Joravsky
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I used to describe myself as "quitting" whenever I was asked if I smoked, because I usually quit at least once a year. The only time it stuck for very long was after taking Chantix, a coworker and I both quit for about a year. Then we started taking turns buying a pack to split with the rule it was only at work, and one pack should last a week. 2 months later we were both pack a day smokers. I have been in a not smoking phase of my life, for the last year, and live in fear of the day when I give in to that little voice in my head saying "go ahead you can handle just one".