Quitter!

Smoking never made much rational sense, but that was never the point. It charred my esophagus to a churro-like crisp, but it also provided some comfort, routine and relief during life's more stressful activities, like getting out of bed in the morning. There's a reason why the condemned were offered a cigarette while facing the firing squad.

Cigarettes, despite the pesky fact that they kill people, are also stimulants, alleviate boredom, act as mild anti-depressants, and help fund the elections of key Southern congressmen, bless their souls. Since college I've smoked off-and-on, as cigarettes had became a companion; a foul, impish companion yes, but a willing confidant that gave of itself, puff by puff.

About a month ago I got really sick when a cold collided with seasonal allergies. Have you ever tried to get back into smoking after an illness? Tastes like steel wool. I had promised myself that, when I reached thirty years old, I would stop. No patch, no gum, no hypnosis. Full stop. The cold provided the excuse. It's refreshing to be able to have quit something so monolithic, and now I can add 'former smoker' to my list of personal attributes.

Then there's the whole vanity issue. Comic Dave Berry said that cigarette sales would drop to zero if the warning said 'cigarettes contain fat.' I don't really want my teeth to look like baked beans, or to have skin like Jed Clampett when I'm forty. Nivea, as far as I know, doesn't make a regenerating lotion that powerful. I could tell that I was starting to smell like Humphrey Bogart's toothbrush.

I will contend that, if a person is able to smoke infrequently and at special occasions, damning health concerns are probably negligible. I am not this person. I've been able to moderate certain aspects of my life, not all of them. There are times when I'm having a cup of coffee, or drinking a beer, when I still experience cravings, and maybe I always will. I have breathed fire.