I went to Happy Hour on Friday. What a mistake that was. Definitely thought I was stronger than that. 1 week, doesn't sound like I'm gonna make it as a quitter does it.
All week I passed on all the cigarettes that I thought would be a problem.
The "Drive to work in traffic cigarette."
-Sing-a-long real loud to whatever song is on the radio, kills the need for this one.
The "I am so stressed and tired at work" cigarette.
-Take a break and go buy stuff. Expensive but works.
The “Co-worker/smoker-buddy asks you to a smoke-break” cigarette.
-Share in vivid detail the story of your hospital visit. They won't ask again.
The after meal cigarette.
-Nothing but will power kills this one.
The “post-coital” cigarette.
-Spoon.
And I had killed each and every one of those cigarette fiend moments. But there was one I did not suspect. One smoke feen'in scenario I had no plans for. No contingency plan, just utterly unprepared.
The hot-chic at the bar offers you a cigarette.
-Beautiful women can be the kryptonite to my Superman, I had nothing.
‘fore I knew it I was smoking a cigarette. Ha-ha having a good time, about to get the math again. Everything would have been cool except I was smoking again. So after the cigarette I left. I left the bar. Without anything more than a
“Um, yeah I have to go.”
I am not mad at myself. I learned something. I'll find a way around that cigarette.
So start the count again.
Lecturers, dis-ers and articulators of lambaste, you know what to do. * Smoker-chicks, we are so done.
* Click me.
