"Omigod, you know that's like, so bad for you," someone would say before downing a doubleshot or indulging in a late night Marquette Gyros run. "You should totally quit."
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Coming to Marquette, you'd think I murdered someone the first time I lit up.
"Omigod, you know that's like, so bad for you," someone would say before downing a doubleshot or indulging in a late-night Marquette Gyros run. "You should totally quit."
Wow, why didn't I ever think of that before? Thanks to you, I've seen the light!
Of course I should quit an enslaving pack-a-day habit, Captain Obvious, just like you should stop binge drinking and cheating on your boyfriend.
Yet smoking affords its own share of benefits: It's a great way to meet other embittered addicts; plus, preachy people don't generally like smokers, so in that right cigarettes act as a deterrent. So, I had that going for me.
But enough was enough … or so said my bank account.
"I'm quitting smoking," I announced to my friends a couple weeks ago. After the laughter finally ceased, I assured them I wasn't, for once, being sarcastic.
"Yeah right."
"Like that will ever happen."
"Sure, until when? Tomorrow?"
That's what friends are for. To eagerly support the idea of quitting until they get a couple of drinks in them or I actually attempt the impossible feat — cold turkey, no less.
Nicotine replacement costs too much, and something about calling a quit hotline reminds me of the late-night chatlines they advertise on TV with the oh-so-shy buxom blonde.
There are other ways. For starters, avoid your triggers.
Okay, no drinking, driving, walking to class, sitting outside, going out to eat, finishing a brisk jog — basically stop breathing.
Or there's the visualization. Some hippie teacher in high school once taught me that if you visualize success, you can realize it.
"Think about how you will achieve your goals," I can still hear her cooing in her batik print muumuu.
I thought about me, without cigarettes or a new coping mechanism for stress, beating down some poor sorority girl with her own stilettos. Or finally breaking through that shamelessly sickening handholding couple Red Rover-style.
Visualizing success, not so much. Now what?
On Thursday, the Center for Health Education and Promotion will hold its annual "Great American Smokeout," or as I used to refer to it, "A 24-hour reminder that I'm a failure (who smells like smoke)." It's a great start date to quit, even if just for that day.
The event, held in the Alumni Memorial Union from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., offers quit kits and the kind of nonjudgmental support it takes to become a former smoker.
For instance, it's not helpful to remind a smoker she's committing a slow form of suicide. What does help, however, is an encouraging word, a supportive e-mail and planning nonsmoking activities.
So what has worked for me so far? The only thing that ever does work — adopting a humble attitude and giving discouragement a wide berth. A slight relapse mustn't signal doom. Failure only results from a self-defeating attitude.
I figure I'm one of the best people to give potential former smokers support because I tend to understand negative thinking. I'm not positive about much. I am positive, however, that quitting smoking is one of the best decisions I've ever made.
If you choose to join me, you'll do fine, like me — minus the deluge of sucker wrappers.
Just don't mess with me for a while.
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