Day 1...

Well, I'm back on the wagon officially. I don't know how many times this makes now, but this time, has to be the final time. I've turned over a new leaf of sorts, or at least I'm attempting to. In addition to quitting smoking, I've decided it's time to get on a strict exercise regimen and quit feeding my body garbage on nearly a daily basis. I've been taking Chantix off and on for over a year now, and while it removes any cravings I might have physically for cigarettes, it doesn't prevent me from buying them, or bumming one, or needing to have one every time I have a few drinks. I've just got to keep reminding myself what's in store for me if I continue down the path I'm on, Cancer, Heart Attack, Stroke, the big three.

Cancer, "The Big Casino" is basically my biggest fear. Lung, throat, colon, brain, liver, stomach, kidney, rectal, it doesn't really matter, it's in the cards for me. More than likely, even if I do quit smoking, I'll die of cancer. My chances will greatly reduce as the days go on after quitting, and my lungs return to their beautiful pink self. So I have to be successful in this endeavour. I've seen three very close relatives waste away from different types of cancer, one was straight up lung, one was Leukemia, one was prostate which went onto lung; my Mom's mother, whom I've never met, she died of lymphoma when my Mom was in her twenties. I'm sure it won't stop there either, my Mom and all of her siblings smoke and have for 30 - 40 years, their time will come too. After seeing all of that, and knowing that it's in my future, you'd have thought I never would have started smoking when I was 15 or 16, I should have known better. In fact, when I was a kid, I used to piss and moan at my Mom all the time, telling her how bad it smelled. Every time she lit up in the car I used to pull my shirts up over my nose so I wouldn't be exposed. None of that mattered. I eventually graduated to stealing packs from her cartons of smokes and I had friends who looked 18 who could buy them. I even found gas stations that didn't card, who would sell them to me, or there was the old faithful cigarette vending machines at bowling alleys. Here I am, some 15 years later still hopelessly addicted. I'm tired of feeling like garbage, tired of being winded walking up a few flights of steps, tired of paying for them. To be honest with you, I really don't even know how much they cost here, I've never really cared how much they were until I was travelling and had to pay $6 to $8 for them, in Seattle, Chicago. Even then if I lived in those cities, I'd probably be spending that each day for a pack and wouldn't blink an eye. Well, I'm done, I've got to be, this is it for me, no more.