By the end of that evening I had managed to bum another 7 cigarettes. This was tricky because the 3 other smokers had brought their own finite supplies, never imagining that they’d wind up so far out in the middle of nowhere. It was 55 miles of bad dirt road to the nearest nest of civilization. And, I was losing points every time I asked to dip into their stash.
By the second night, I found myself hiding behind our tent smoking Mr. Three’s next-to-the-last cigarette and not caring one bit about how I might explain the rapid disappearance of his one pack of Marlboros. At the reception and dance, I found myself sidling up to one of the local cowboys who worked on the ranch (when there weren’t wedding guests from New York on the prairies). It was obvious that he was a fool for a redhead because I had to physically fend him off with one hand even as I puffed away on his cigarette with the other hand…all done with some deftness in order not to appear slutty.
I know that every reader who has quit and started back can understand my story. I survived the weekend, but continued to smoke for another 15 years. Now THAT’s a powerful monster!
But, it can be done!
KK
Take a trip down memory lane with SalGal, as she reminisces about the good ol' days...when smoking was glamorous. Also, take a peak at our video!
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