Screw you.

Screw you.

You may detect a slight hint of aggression in my writing hereon. I assure that this anger is not directed specifically at you, however I cannot be held accountable, if at times, this anger seems to be directed at you: dear reader, friend, husband and sister. It is unfortunate and unfair that you have to suffer the consequences of my quitting smoking. Nevertheless, life is not always fair, so here we stand: I am angry and you a here. So duck and cover.

It has been two weeks since that fateful Sunday morning when I woke up face down at the San Francisco Hilton Hotel room 564's toilet bowl. Little did I know my life was about to change - little did you suspect that this change would not be for the best for you. All I knew was that I could not speak because my throat was hurting really really bad from having vomited the whole night.
Long story short, I could not smoke for 2 days. If I experienced any nicotine withdraw it went unnoticed, probably masked by the vomiting, gagging, headache and sensitivity to EVERYTHING brought on by my killer hang over. So comes Tuesday, 48 hours into smoke cessation, and I decided "Maybe I can ride this through and quit."

I had been led to believe by EVERYONE, including stupid TRUTH commercials on fucking MTV, that my life would be better. I would be defying "The Man", I would smell things better - and smell better myself, I would taste things better, I wouldn't get wrinkles and on and on. My friends insisted I would feel better, I would save money, and I would live longer. I was led to believe, I now know, erroneously, things would get BETTER, so imagine my surprise with what happened next.

Things don't taste any better. Yes, sure, I can run longer but my heart rate is never above 145 so it doesn't even count as cardio!! I envy my friend next to me on the same machine sweating, while I shiver thinking "It's cold I think I better run, faster." And worst of all...I am angry. Annoyed. All the time. At everyone.
Why would I want to live longer if all that extra time I get is spent wanting to reach across the office to strangle that co-worker, who before never bothered me, but now drives me insane...cause she walks really, really slow. Or the extra time I have is spent at me not getting over my friend's inability to take constructive criticism.
I am afraid I will turn 81 and still the wondering "Why is she so defensive?"
That extra five years, although cancer free, will surely be spent on dark, unproductive thoughts such as: I really, really already know what a declining market is; can't everyone else see that the economy won't get any better for at least 5 years?; how long do I have to wait until he finishes this sentence?; I wish I could be as entertained by this as you are.

But fear not my friends! I have found the answer for this problem. No, I will not return to cigarettes. From now on I have a new motto:"Drink till it's fun!"
Yes, I will continue to self- medicate, but now with a more socially acceptable drug: Beer.
And if you are thinking: "Oh, no Mari, you can't replace cigarettes with alcohol and/or food: it's bad for you". Or "Why can't you seem to be able to live without addictions?". Or, as my aunt said: "I can't imagine your cousins smoking Mari, it takes a certain personality to be so addicted to something."
I have two words for you:

Screw you.

- - -

All of that being said I am really grateful no one has abandoned me yet. Thanks friends, I think the nicotine withdraw rooted anger will be over within the year. Hang in there, will ya'?