Well, to tell you the rest of the story, I won’t make a ‘Minute by minute’ because for the past four years, nothing, nada, not even one cigarette. So a ‘Minute by minute’ to describe four years… you’ll have to admit it will be slightly tedious.
So let’s say, higgledy-piggledy, in the days that followed me stopping smoking, I first thought I could manage without a patch. Until the day I wanted to smoke a spring roll. Then I realised a bit of help wouldn’t be superfluous
Besides, I have of course recovered taste. I wish not to such an extent… of putting on 10 kilos in 10 months.
My skin indeed looks younger.
14 years old to be precise.
Pimples included.
I quarreled with half of my relatives, mainly smokers of course whom I reproached for having no will, for being no more no less than losers and putting my life in danger.
I refused all evening outings because without ciggies nothing seemed worth it.
I stopped drinking coffee because it reminds me of cigarette.
I stopped drinking alcohol for the same reasons.
I finally decided to start drinking alcohol again to forget I wasn’t drinking coffee anymore. I noticed after a certain number of drinks you don’t remember you want a cigarette.
I realised that because of my dawning alcoholism my complexion was sallower than when I used to smoke. Blackheads as bonuses.
I was allergic to patches so I had to change its spot every day. It made me use original parts of my body.
I had a red circle on the right butt for one month.
I became addicted to nicotine chewing-gums which are yet the most disgusting thing on earth. Worse than Smecta, that’s something.
I finally gave up on gums thanks to Tic-Tac.
I gave up on Tic-Tac thanks to Kiss-Cool.
I gave up Kiss-Cool with ‘Orange and Mint’ Ricola,
I gave up on sugar free sweets because of stomach disorder I wouldn’t wish to my worst enemy.
I wrote to the inventor of aspartame to ask him why Kiss Cools make your farts so smelly.
I spent whole evenings explaining that I didn’t miss cigarette to people who visibly didn’t give a damn.
I learnt to wait for five minutes for the desire to go.
Still today, it seems the five minutes are not over.
I’ve been happy on Sunday night to be out of cigarette and not to have to cross Paris to find some. I don’t even notice it’s Sunday and I don’t have cigarettes.
I don’t smell like tobacco anymore.
I’m not afraid to have a bad breath anymore.
I manage to lie in the sun on the beach with one of my favorite song in my ears without carving for a smoke.
I finally understood I can enjoy a moment without lighting a cigarette.
I started chocolate.
I hope there will never be a doctor to decree that you can die from second-hand cocoa.
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