Insidious Injuries

I was in the 9th grade when I spotted these huge boxes of Dunhills in the loft in my parent's bedroom. I've always seen boxes of cigarettes thrown about in our house because my dad used to get them for his friends and family who wanted foreign smokes. I was never really affected or bothered by this, in fact, I used to make fun of my dad's extra small teeth by saying that it was all because he used to smoke. I remember my mother scaring me into hating smoking - she had a hard time breathing in smoke-filled places.

However, on a sultry summer's day I decided to check out what this smoking is all about. I took a pack of the already opened Dunhill box and went into the guest bedroom. I smoked my first ever cig and I hated it. I coughed, my throat felt burned and I put out the damn thing in a few seconds. Ugh. But I was curious - what is this thing..why does that hot uncle smoke them?! So I tried them a few more times in the span of a fortnight. I eventually got a hang of how to smoke. Yay for me!

I soon got my friends hooked onto it. By the time I was 16 I was the famed chick in high school who could exhale the smoke through her nose (how unsexy). I almost got totally grounded when my parent's started smelling smoke in my room. I remember that day quite distinctly. I was 18 and really upset that I'd broken up with my boyfriend of that time. I needed a smoke. My parents were downstairs supervising the painting work that was going on in the house. I smoked a couple of cigs and calmed down. But I was unable to air the room out in time. My mother got pretty ticked off and my dad walked over to me and smelt my mouth. Luckily, he had the sense not to tell my mother. Afterwards, he gave me a lecture.

I was 20 by the time I was smoking alot. I needed a cig everytime I hit even the smallest of the panic buttons. My lips were getting darker, my skin was getting shitty, my fingers always smelt of smoke..it was rather clear I was developing an addiction. My dad started giving me longer lectures. My mother finally stepped out of her denial and told me she will never talk to me if she ever catches me smoking. I started having mini battles which soon translated into wars with my parents. What the hell..smoking is not an addiction to me..I simply seem to need them! Leave me alone!! And I'd throw the whole 'only child, lonely child' shit and put them onto a guilt-trip.

I started developing a bad smoker's cough when I tried quitting. Odd, I thought. I was then curious to see whether I will be able to quit or not. I was unable to. I did have sporadic bursts of quitting. Good for me, I was able to stop smoking all the freakin' time and cut it down to when I was drinking. Smartly, I cut the drinking down. Anyhow, by age 19/20 I got really serious about my degree. I wanted the gold medal - so everything went on hold. Even smoking. I was on the recluse mode for a while when I didn't indulge in parties, smoking, boys or shopping even. I didn't get that fucking gold medal. I got second place. How very comforting. Smokes!!!

I met some blogger guys and we partied a bit. I ended up smoking like a chimney thanks to those parties. I was desperate..I was smoking way too much, my smoker's cough was intermittently coming up, my lips were getting dark, my hair smelt of smoke and I was having trouble finishing my 80 laps in the pool again. I was praying hard for some will power when I was placed in the cancer ward as a counselor. I watched a man die of lung cancer because of excessive smoking. That did it. Hit the last nail to my coffin of smoking history.

Or so I thought. I'm still smoking - albeit, it's only when I really, really, really, really need it. I know I'm not addicted anymore, but there is a part of me that desires a smoke every once in 2-3 months. I've never had this problem with drinking. I can go without a drink for months and not feel it at all. Ofcourse, I've never really not drunk for over 4 weeks. Ha.

The irony, as always, is that I work with people who have cancer.

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I know that many readers (esp my cousin who might be reading this blog, rubbing her hands in glee knowing I'm no 'ideal' kid and hence, she can 'tell on me' when the time is right..or do whatever Indian relatives do) are wondering if I still smoke. I don't. But then, I have the occasional drag and still hold a pencil to my mouth. I am human, after all..how ever much you think I'm god. :)