Giving it up is never easy …

What better time to talk about successfully giving anything up, then fresh on the heels of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s tragic death?  So when I was cigarette buttlooking for a little inspiration this morning, and came across this WordPress Daily Prompt, I knew I had to talk about my experience giving up smoking:

Not that smoking is, in any way, as difficult to give up,  as heroin.  Or as serious an addiction.  But make no mistake.  It is still an addiction.

When most of my high school friends smoked, I had no interest.  Of course back then, no one knew it was bad for you.  Everybody smoked.  Doctors and nurses smoked.  Athletes smoked.  Celebrities Continue reading

Day 208. Not Easy

I read on Facebook yesterday, a cousin of mine was celebrating her tenth anniversary of not smoking.  Good for her!  It’s quite an achievement.  And I know, becausebutts I quit.  It’s got to be twenty-five years ago.  Long time.

Of course when I started to smoke we had no idea it was bad for us.  Actors smoked, even in movies.  My parents both smoked.  Probably most of the people I knew, smoked.  Although I didn’t start when all my friends did.  I was on one of those teen tours and got terribly bored with one of our stops.

Kenora, Ontario.  Nothing to do on a good day, and it rained for the two or three days we were there.  That was when I started smoking.  Not the smartest move I’ve ever made, but I was a kid.

At the beginning it wasn’t too bad.  But as time went by, I smoked more and more and more.  Until I was up to Continue reading

Day 15. Bitter Taste

This seems to be my time to re-visit my past.  My brain is just bursting with memories.  Most wonderful, some not so great.  Just like life, itself.  So today I am thinking of a crazy friend I had, back in Montreal.  Sadly she passed away from cancer, a few years ago.

She smoked like a chimney (Gitanes, a brand of French cigarettes she got hooked on when she lived in Paris).  She used one of those filtered cigarette holders, thinking it somehow protected her from the evils, and perils, of smoking.  Considering she ended up with lung cancer that travelled to her kidneys, I’d say her thinking was flawed.  She also drank like a fish, but never got drunk.  Or obnoxious.  Her voice was husky, her laugh infectious; and she told one and all that her breasts (which she’d had enlarged way, way before it was fashionable) “were so beautiful they belonged on a mantle.”

I have enough stories about her to write a book.  She was just fun.  Gorgeous (a model).  And from an extremely wealthy family, although you would never have known it.  She was the wild one in the group.  Her name was Jayne — spelled with a “y”, as she would be quick to point out, the minute she was asked what her name was;   and I swear if you were to google Auntie Mame, it would be her picture you’d see.

And she loved radishes (ergo, my ‘bitter” reference).

They had to be whole, slathered with unsalted butter and dipped in salt before every bite.  She ate them by the bowlful.  Often after a very late night on the town (which was most nights).  And trust me, of all the strange and Continue reading