Oh God, I feel as sick and dizzy as a pissed granny at a sherry party. It’s because I’m wearing a nicotine patch – a clear, sticky thing that sends nicotine coursing through my middle aged veins. It’s Day Two of my not smoking, so Serve Me Right. I’d like to say that I stopped because I was worried about lung cancer. Well I am anyway, especially as my lung capacity is a bit rubbish anyway. I once had to breathe through one of those tubes which measure it and the monitor shifted about half a centimeter.
I once asked a friend why he had given up smoking and he said: ‘Because I was tired of being a slave to the weed’ which struck me as a very sensible thing to say. You are a slave to it. Many is the time I’ve lit up and felt an overwhelming sense of disgust. I would smoke outside in the cold, shivering, feeling pathetic and ashamed. It seems so ridiculous as well as monstrously dangerous. My wise friend also said: ‘Don’t wait until you really want to stop smoking because that day will never come.’ Oh I know all those smokers out there, including me, will sometimes wake up, headachy, breathless and chock full of guilt at the sight of full ashtrays and the rank smell and vow there and then to Stop. But the addiction comes creeping back, overriding the self-loathing.
To be honest, the real reason I’m giving up is superficial vanity. I’ve noticed a few thread veins sliding out of my nose (oooh sexy) and think that if I keep this habit up I’ll soon have a nose like W.C Fields.
So this is it. And maybe feeling like a sick granny is a small price to pay. Any tips or advice from former smokers out there?