Congratulate me, children. Today marks the fifth anniversary of my quitting smoking!
What I no longer look like. Well, at least I don't have the cigar.
Yes, five years ago today I kicked that devil tobacco - cold turkey, no less. I'd like to say it was because I finally realized that by then I'd been smoking on and off for over half of my life, or that I came to the conclusion that I loved myself just too damn much to pollute my body anymore. In fact, however, I would have to say that most of it had to do with Mrs. Nator ramping up the anti-smoker abuse on me. There's more than one reason that I love her.
Am I now eating and exercising like I really should? No. But at least I've notched five years sans death sticks in my extra-large belt.
Hey, aren't we all just works in progress?
2 comments:
Congratulations! I think I need to get my Lovely Husband™ to a hypnotherapist. He finds it very difficult to quit. Oddly, he finds it easier when I'm not around. He gave up for the four months he was stuck in NZ last year trying to sort out his visa. Soon as he was back over here, he was back on them. Hmm.
But Qenny, don't you and LH live in "the smoke"?
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