Tomorrow, I will have been a non smoker for a fortnight.
That is fourteen days or 336 hours, or more specifically 20,160 minutes. I prefer to use 20160 minutes because it feels like a bigger accomplishment and that's what it's all about two weeks in. Reminding yourself of your accomplishments.
It's more difficult to keep up the quitting momentum than I had originally envisioned, and I admitted to my sister on the phone the other day that had I not so very publicly plastered my non smoking status over every available social media platform, there is a real possibility, that I may have given in by now.
I guess that's what it's all about, keeping yourself accountable. I'm pretty bad at that normally.
So thanks peeps..., for silently judging me and keeping me on track. Xx
I have to keep reminding myself that I don't smoke anymore, I am a non smoker, which is all great, but what is a non smoker? And what do they do all day?
I'm still figuring that all out, but what I have managed to get, is what non smokers don't do in order to stay non smokers.
Learn from my mistakes people...
Non smokers make sure they have readily available supplies of quit smoking aids, this is key. It is very easy after 20 160 minutes to become lulled into a false sense of confidence and misjudge the role your quit smoking aid is playing in your quitting journey.
Before quitting, I was smoking 20 cigarettes, containing no less than 8mg of nicotine per cigarette in a 24 hour period. That's 160mg of nicotine per day. I chose the nicotine patch as my quit smoking aid, which contains 21mg of nicotine, absorbed directly through the skin in my ass to my blood stream, per day.
That's a huge drop in nicotine intake, and explains my initial need to kick everything.
Two weeks in though, my body has adjusted well to the 21mg of ass nicotine. So when I realised half way through a busy shopping trip that I'd forgotten to put a fresh nicotine patch on that morning, I thought I'd see how I went.
Well.. I went about another hour before I lingered near the front doors of the shopping complex, breathing deeply, trying to catch some second hand smoke in my air sacs. The familiar smell brought back memories of that very satisfying cigarette, smoked when one had completed a busy shopping experience on the way back to the car, or the sneaky mid shopping trip smoke, the one you have to stop, defrazzle, take inventory of your shopping purchases thus far.
Like half time.
I tried not to think about smoking, I told myself that I didn't smoke anymore, and when that failed, and I wanted to start pushing the elderly down escalators and slapping the faces of children that did not belong to me, I eyed the tobacconist longingly, and I reasoned with myself that it wouldn't be SO bad if I just bought a small pack and left them in the car to be smoked ONLY when I was shopping. I could even throw the rest of them out and just have one...
I took a deep breath and looked at the chemist, and then back to the tobacconist.
I'm pleased to write that I won that battle with myself, because I made a quick pit stop to the chemist and stocked up on patches.
The chemist lady was PAINFULLY slow, she took forever to find them, I could see them, sitting there on the shelf that contained everything that everyday plebs cant just grab up off of the shelf without asking first, guarded by the chemist counter..they were just there..staring at me.
The chemist lady was squinting, running a finger over the ticket strips trying to locate them. I stood there, like I was at a ten pin bowling alley and I had just bowled, watching her finger trace over the tickets, leaning slightly to the left in the hopes she would move there and get find them faster.
She FINALLY found them and put them on the counter at a snail pace, then she eyed me over the top of her glasses and asked if I had used these before, like she was itching to give me a sermon on their use. I wanted to say, Not. Fucking. TODAY I HAVE'NT LADY, SO HURRY THE FUCK UP, but I didn't, I just said yes, and I smiled politely, but inside I was screaming at her, PUT IT. IN .THE FUCKING .BAG WOMAN AND MOVE IT!!.. Mama needs her ass nicotine, real bad..
It took every ounce of my strength not to snatch it from her hands, rip them open and lick them a few times before I dug around the back of my under wear with a look of ecstasy as I stuck it on my expanding ass cheek, all like.. "Yeeeer, that's the shit... Come to mama.."
I didn't though, because.. You just. Don't. I bought them, I even waited patiently for her to put them in a pink paper bag.. And I waited for her to snap off a bit of sticky tape to seal the bag.. And I waited for her to wait for the fucking EftPos machine.. And I waited for her to squint some more as she punched in the necessary Eftpos information..
ELEVEN YEARS LATER, I paid, and I even smiled and said thank you, and Merry Christmas.. because, self control people, its key to quitting.
I gritted my teeth and I walked at a reasonable pace to the toilet before I realised that my beautiful ass nicotine was trapped in an impenetrable fortress of freshness foil.
You can't tear that shit with your teeth Ok? Don't even try. It's like a fucking casino safe.
I may have cried a bit at this point, but I pulled myself together, I dug around in my handbag till I found a pair of nail clippers, never have I been so glad to see a pair of nail clippers in my life. I took those curved airport illegals, and I opened that foil square one tiny snip at a time.
About 20 minutes later, all was right in the world again.
The point is, and I have one, I promise, is that I came very close to buying a packet of cigarettes.. After almost two weeks of accomplishment, I almost screwed the whole lot because I felt strong enough to do without my sweet, sweet ass nicotine.
I have to learn to be patient with the process, and that it's OK to use the quit smoking aids for as long as I need to, (as long as that need does not exceed six weeks, or I consult my physician) fuck off... Whatever, anyway after six weeks, I move on to 14mg of ass nicotine and so on and so forth.. Till I don't absorb nicotine through my lungs or ass anymore.
It's a PROCESS, I need to respect the PROCESS...