I didn’t experience my first cigarette until I was about 30 years old. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to smoke, it was that I was afraid I might get hooked. And seeing that it took me the better part of my adolescent years to quit sucking on my finger and thumb, you can understand the wariness I had with trying a cigarette – though it appealed to me. Oral fixation + addicting ingredients + addicting personality = one sad black lung life. My drug of choice these days, (okay, I’ll admit, it’s the drug of choice for the past 20 years of my life), is reading. It may not be as expensive, it may not be as unhealthy (although, at some point during my jr. high years, I became almost anemic due to the lifestyle of inactiveness I lead), but it is an effective distraction. And isn’t that the point of any bad addiction?
But anyway, back to the day I smoked my first cigarette. It was my sister-in-law (I’ll never reveal which one but her name begins with an S-H) that lead me down the dark dirt road of destruction. Yogi Bear Campground near Quarryville, PA , is where the hand-off took place. My sister-in-law used her charm to score us 2 cigarettes from our neighboring camper, one for her and of course, one for me. We had to wait till our hubbys were taking naps. With giggles and shadiness, we tried to take our ciggies to the pond where we could smoke without being found out by both hubbies and kiddies alike. But wouldn’t you know it, the kids were just returning to our site as we made our way down the little dirt road. Hiding our contraband behind our backs, we made up excuses as to what we were doing. LYING. Yes. And then we didn’t even throw the incriminating evidence away in a garbage can. We just did what all smokers do. We crushed them with our heels and left them lying in the dirt. That’s what happens when you partake in drugs, you must lie and hide and degrade yourself. I wish I could say it was all worth it. But it wasn’t. I didn’t feel a thing, except for feeling gypt. I dirtied my lung for nothing! And of course, after meeting up with the hubby a few minutes later in the Yogi Bear Game house, he could smell it on me. He just shook his head at me and made me promise to never smoke a cigarette again. I agreed since it was such a disappointing experience. I did smoke one more time at the bar in Wharton. But that was about a year or so ago, and I have never felt the need to smoke since. It’s enough for me to sit beside my smoking co-workers each monday during our lunch break.
I do, however, want to add something to my bucket list. I would like to smoke a pipe. I would like to smoke a pipe while watching highschool football in the Fall. I think I may be more of a pipe smoker.
Dare I ask? Yes. Most definately. What was your first time like?