This morning a woman stood next to me at a pelican crossing, lit a cigarette and blew smoke in my face. Aside from the fact that I now smell of eau de fag instead of my perfume, I was furious at how unaware she was of all the people around her.
For the record, I used to be a smoker. And I loved smoking. From the second I opened my eyes to last thing at night, that little white stick was always with me.
And then my husband gave up, just like that. And, of course, he hated that I was still smoking and wrote me a list of reasons I should stop. Of all the things he wrote – lung diseases, asthma, infertility etc etc, one thing stood out for me. He’d put: You make our cats stink. And there it was. The reason.
Of course I knew smoking was bad for me. Of course I knew there are loads of hideous health problems attached to smoking. But suddenly I realised I didn’t want my husband to get cancer from my second-hand smoke, I didn’t want to make my cats stink and it felt very selfish.
When I put out my last fag, I didn’t believe for a single second that it would really be my last. I spent a week following smokers around, just to get some second-hand smoke in my lungs and I mock-smoked a Biro whenever the urge was too much. While chatting with friends, all I could think was: I want a fag, I want a fag, I have no idea what you’re saying to me, I want a fag. And having been through this week of misery, I couldn’t put myself through it again and now that’s my new reason not to light up.
So if you’re struggling to give up, get someone close to you (kids, friends) to write you a list of reasons why you should. You never know, one of them might be the trigger you need to stub them out for good.