Smokeless Friday

The first thing they told me when I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Disorder was that I have to stop smoking. That smoking is the greatest threat to my immune system that was in my lifestyle. That was in May. My partner Mike has been hounding me to stop every since. He even threatened to leave me if I didn’t. Once he actually did, for the longest six hours of my life. But I’m still smoking two packs a day. And I did try to quit, three times. Now I have stopped drinking, stop using drugs years ago, you name it, but nothing compares to how hard it is to stop smoking. Nothing.

Now anyone who visits my blog knows that Mike was recently laid off. So we’re in a bit of a financial bind. Actually we’re in a terrible financial bind. I know that this will pass, but it has been stressing the hell out of me. Hence more smoking.

Wednesday morning Mike slammed down a piece of paper in front of me. On it stated the exact monthly cost of my smoking, $341.00. Then he barked, “OK, you can continue to kill yourself or we can pay our rent. You decide” As I was looking at the figure in shock he came back in the room. This time this is what he said, “No , I’ll decide. I’m bigger than you, stronger than you, younger than you (I could have lived without that remark), and if I have to, I will tie you to a chair. I just saw that you have four packs left. I know what a cheap bastard you are (again, another remark I could have lived without) so I’ll let you finish them. But Friday you will stop smoking. Period.”
He said this in such a forceful and masculine tone of voice that I was left both vaguely aroused and totally petrified. This time he means it. I know it.

So what I’m asking from you is to wish me luck. I will be posting a day to day diary of how it’s going. They may very well just be the rantings of a madman. Or the posts might actually be interesting.

And by no means, if I do succeed (wrong attitude already), I will never become an anti-smoking fanatic. I firmly believe that it’s your right to do whatever you want to with your own body. And truth be told, if I could afford it, I’d most likely still be smoking. And I fully intend to throw myself to the floor doubled over in pain every time I hear Mike coming. But I know what he’ll do. He’ll just step over me and adopt my Mother’s favorite saying whenever I’m being overly dramatic, “ Michael get off the stage, nobody’s watching.”