No more smoking

On Monday I quit smoking.  On Tuesday I got sick.  Went out and got myself a lovely chest infection (or as the doctor put it – upper respiratory tract infection – why do they always say it the hard way instead of in laymans terms we would all understand??).  So my first week of no smoking has been great.  I wonder just how easy it’s going to be next week when I don’t have a chest that feels like it’s burning from stopping me lighting a cigarette?

On my birthday this year, when I turned 30, I decided that I was going to start getting my life on the right track.  I was going to quit smoking, start going to the gym and get fit and healthy, lose some weight, stop drinking so much and stop pining after a certain Mr Dickhead.  So I quit smoking.  The day after my birthday.  Just stopped cold turkey.  And I didn’t smoke for the next 12 weeks (barring one smoke on a very stressful night when my current sleeping partner decided he was going to smash his head open on a bathtub after nearly a bottle of vodka – a well deserved smoke I’m thinking).  Then 12 weeks into my quitting streak I went out for a night with Miss Moody, her new man and her brother.  All was going well till the 3rd bottle of wine, and the consistent question – “Want a smoke?  Are you sure?”  Well I have no willpower (okay a little, but not a lot) and after being asked this for a while, I went and had a couple smokes.  After the 5th bottle of wine, I felt bad, taking their smokes, so I gave in and bought a packet of my own.

That was about 3 months ago.  And now that I’m going to the gym, I have decided once again that I am going to quit smoking.  I don’t see the point in going to the gym and huffing and puffing and coughing my lungs up, because while I’m making the rest of my body healthy, I’m just killing my lungs off.  So my next step has been reached.  Gym, now no more smoking.  And this time I intend for it to last, and not just for 3 months.

Next on my list is to stop pining for Mr Dickhead.  And on that one I’m very nearly there.  I don’t have my rose coloured glasses on when I think of him anymore, and I very rarely text him and I never phone him.  I still unfortunately reply to his texts, but hey, he lives in UK.  I’m off to UK next year – accommodation???  Maybe not a great idea.  Perhaps I should work on less drinking first?

Well off to take some tables, and gargle salt water (ughhh) and hopefully get my voice back.  God I miss my voice.


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