I have been an ex-smoker now for three years. Breathing is good. Tasting food is good. Fifteen extra pounds is not so good.
I am glad to no longer be smoking, but I must admit there are somethings I miss.
I miss that coffee and a cigarette quiet time.
When at a party with people I didn’t know, the smokers outside were always the most fun.
I twitched less from the Tourette’s when I smoked.
If you needed to kill some time, a cigarette was always a great excuse.
I don’t miss being ostracized by society. It seems the last group that it is quite alright to despise is smokers. You cannot hate any group, race, culture or religion; you must be delicate around fat people and ugly people; stupid people are special, drug addicts and alcoholics are to be pitied, but for some reason it is quite alright to treat smokers with utter distain.
What I don’t miss the most is being a slave to nicotine. I had forgotten what that slavery was like until a recent trip to Aruba. I was sitting in our bus to take us to our resort and I noticed a lady waiting outside. She was pulling on a cigarette like it was her last breath. When she finished she lit up another and sucked that one down in seconds.
At first I thought this was crazy, but then I remembered how I was after a six hour trip where smoking was not allowed. I remember sucking that nicotine down in an effort to feel normal again.
I don’t miss that feeling at all.