When I was with my sister the other day, we had been shopping at WalMart, and afterward she said she needed a cigarette. Who wouldn't? WalMart is a zoo. I smelled the cigarette she lit and I expressed out loud my satisfaction in having quit, and that I couldn't imagine smoking again. I can't. The thought of a cigarette makes my stomach turn. Which is a definite good thing. I don't want to smoke again. Lots of people say that if they were told they only had a month to live, no matter how long they had been quit, they would buy a carton of cigarettes and smoke to their death. I wouldn't. Absolutely not.
Everything smells better, especially my hair and clothes and house. I don't have to open windows in the dead of winter. I don't have to constantly chew gum or brush my teeth. I don't have to take two showers a day. I don't have to take cigarette breaks. I can taste food again, and I've discovered that I don't like certain things like buffalo wings because my taste buds can't handle the spice now that they've been stripped of the tar and nicotine. I can smell everything again, and like taste, I don't like the smell of certain things anymore. Stale smoke smell being the worst of all, but I can smell every person who just had a cigarette no matter what they do to cover the smell. It's gross.
Who would've thought I'd reach this milestone? I sure didn't think I'd make it. But I did, and I'm totally happy. The first few weeks are the hardest, but I still do catch a craving every once in awhile. When I do, I just remember how expensive and smelly it was, and how hard it was to breathe. This is awesome. If you're quitting, stick with it. It's totally worth the hassle, bad moods, and impatience. You can do it. Here's to another five months.