I smoked cigarettes for 40 years. I don’t recommend it but I did love my cigarettes and I still miss them sometimes. In my case I really believe I was an addict and I still am. If I smoke one cigarette I will not be able to stop, so I have to smoke my pen. I was hounded into quitting. It got so it was impossible to find an acceptable place to smoke. Even in my home I had to blow my smoke outside so it wouldn’t make my cat sick. I don’t know if cats get lung cancer, but I kept thinking about how little her lungs are. I just couldn’t do it. I felt more and more like an outcast and I could see that I would be banished from polite society if I didn’t quit.

Smoking did not ever agree with me. It destroyed my sinuses, ruined my sense of smell and therefore my ability to taste. It gave me a constant dry cough that probably irritated everyone no end and eventually made me feel ill every time I puffed, but still I smoked. Now I am glad I quit. I wrote a fictionalized memoir about a cigarette addict named Zoe Taylor. You can read her story on my other blog You have to be 18 to read Zoe’s story. I post a new chapter every Friday. Start with the Introduction and click through the chapters in order. Travel back to the hippie days.

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