In case the chronic bad mood, or short tempered fuse didn’t give it away. I’m attempting to quit smoking. I’ve cleaned the bad people from my life, it’s time now to clean the habits that I’ve spent a lifetime developing. This upcoming birthday has me freaked out thanks to a rather backhanded comment my son made. He said mom, you’re going to be half of 70 on Friday. I started reviewing my family history and realized that I can name more than a handful of people that share my DNA that didn’t live to see 70. I don’t know why this thought freaked me out, but it did, enough to make me look at myself in the mirror and discover that I both loved and hated what I saw.
On the positive side, I found that I’m stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. That I honestly could give two shits what someone thinks of how I look, which as a female, is a pretty big deal. I can honestly say that I have no fear getting naked. It took me hella alotta years to say that. I’m also unapologetic in my ambitions. I want what I want and I’m willing to work toward it. I’m more accepting of my mistakes. I go big or go home when I am having problems. I’m so used to being in control that when things spiral, I don’t know how to handle it. I had to learn this the hard way.
I hate that I smoke. Its not sexy, it’s not fun, it’s not attractive, and for fuck sake, I have asthma. I mean seriously, how dumb do you have to be to carry your cigarettes and your inhaler in the same damn pocket? Yet I’ve done this faithfully for years. What kind of example am I setting for the little people who look to me for their decision making process?
Here’s to quitting, let’s hope for all our sakes’ that the anger doesn’t override my common courtesy.