Giving up the weed...

I'm a terrible smoker. Well, not terrible as I'm really quite good at it. In fact I will go so far to say that I'm an expert. And I've loved it. I know, I know.  It's a disgusting habit which is ageing me faster than a fortnight in Spain, but I've loved it.  I've loved every minute of it.  But I know it's time to say goodbye, sayonara, Taraa!

You see, we've had a bit of a scare. Bro has cancer.  The stark reality makes you realise life is short enough without poisoning myself and everyone around me.  I didn't make a pact with didn't work before and anyway I'm not about to play the blackmail game.  "If you cure Bro, I'll give up smoking".  Nahhh, that isn't me. And I'm not pretending to do it for Bro.  I'm doing it for myself.  Bro is giving up too, which is a positive move. Maybe a bit like locking the stable door after the horse has bolted but who am I to criticise?   The cancer is about Bro.  The smoking is about both of us.

So tonight I will be smoking my last ever cigarette and will be waking up in the morning a non smoker.   I've got my vapour fags, I've got my patches so I can only try and be a bit less of a bitch.  The smoking thing will not define me. I will not be a statistic.

I can do without the fags but I can't do without Bro.


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