Day 32: I'm a Quitter.

...And I mean that in the best possible way...

With love to quitnet.net!

The day I realized I had really, really quit smoking was about two weeks after my son was born.  We were leaving the hospital after visiting the Small Human in the NICU.  I saw a new mom, still in her hospital gown, hooked up to IV's, in a wheelchair, outside smoking.  And I totally understood why she was out there smoking like a chimney.

And then I realized that despite almost croaking, despite having my child extracted from my abdomen without adequate anesthesia, and despite the fact that my little boy was living in a fishbowl 45 minutes away from home, I did *not* want a cigarette.

Never mind that I would later crave one like crazy when my dad died, or that I still itch for one when I go out to see a show.  It was that moment when, of all times, I was a wee bit stressed, and the last thing on my mind was getting my nicotine on.  It was at that particular point that I knew for (almost) sure that I will be an ex-smoker for good.

I better be an ex-smoker for good.  Quitting sucked. I'm not doing that shit again!