I can't imagine stepping out for smoke. Not anymore. Not with a new family and future in the making.
Too much to miss. Life's a limited engagement and I must celebrate the magic of every moment's encore.
Even when the reviews are bad, and even when you've got a new summer cold, which I do, shared generously from my lovely little daughter Beatrice. (With Bryce on the way the cold sharing moments have only just begun...)
Unfortunately I used to imagine smoking a lot after I quit. Before that, I used to smoke a lot and imagined smoking less the impact on my health.
Before that, I just smoked unabashedly, missing a lot of moments, fueling the pleasure centers in my brain with nicotine, while blackening my lungs with smoke.
Before that, I just didn't smoke. A long time ago
I saw Rush in concert last week and so many people my age (and younger and older) still smoke. Crazy.
I know, I know. I wasn't going to go but went at the last minute once we heard the second opinion about the blood clot fights. Plus, Mama forced me to go. Really. She did.
I got to see old friends from back in the day (when I did smoke) and they brought two of their teenage kids to the show. I imagined one day when we take Bea and Bryce to concerts and how I'm so glad I'm smoke free.
Will I take the girls to a Rush show you ask? Man, if they're still playing then I will thank the Lord our Father who art in heaven -- and Disney animitronics.
Yesterday I cleaned out my wallet and found the "reasons I want to quit smoking" I wrote back before September 22, 2002, my official quit date (Bea came on September 22; the synchronicity isn't lost on me.)
Here are the top four:
- Because I don't want to die a horrible death -- lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema, etc.
- Because it's extremely dangerous.
- Because I want to be healthy.
- Because I want to be in control of what I put inside my body -- not addicted to a substance.
Addiction is a bitch, and anyone who's been addicted to anything knows what I'm talking about.
The only choice you have is not to do it.
And why the heck would I want to miss out on a rock and roll tissue garden dance party with my Beatrice?
