7:12 a.m. - Wednesday, Jul. 03, 2002
Ms Leslie greases her chin for once
If I was leaving for a trip to the remotest part of Alaska and I had just enough room in my pack for food to last my stay, I would leave out enough food to make room for cigarettes instead. This is true. I�ve done it. I would rather smoke than eat. Did I say I like to smoke? No. I lost any sense of enjoyment from smoking a long time ago. I need to smoke� even more than I need to eat. The hunger and craving for smoke goes deeper and is harder to resist than food hunger. Only my stomach gets hungry for sustenance. Every cell in my body gets hungry for nicotine and each one seems bent over in agony and wanting.

The only positive thing about this mess is that I know I won�t die if I don�t smoke. This is the beginning of day three. If I can hold out for a week, things will get better. There will come a time� a brief moment� when I won�t be thinking of cigarettes. Then will come another. Little by little, I�ll get used to life without Camels and go on to realize I�m happy to have quit.

But not today. Not last night. Probably not tomorrow either. Last night, I was pacing around the apartment. I�ve already searched every pocket of every jacket to see if I could discover a forgotten cigarette pack. No use� all gone. But there�s a pretty long butt in the ashtray of my truck. It�s one I lit and then had to crush out right away for some reason. I need to throw it away, but I�m afraid to touch it right now. If I pick it up, I�ll light it. How humiliating is that? How hooked am I? So, last night I was pacing around, trying to keep from going out to the truck for that last of the last of smokes. I managed not to do it, but the price was high. I ordered a pizza instead.

It was a beautiful little circle of bread and cheese, tomato sauce and chunks of sausage, ham and pineapple. I got the Dominos medium�. Delivered hot in less than thirty minutes. And then, bless my soul, I sat there and ate the whole thing, along with two cans of real, sugared Coke. I ate past the point of satisfaction or good taste. I ate because I knew that only while I ate could I avoid the immediacy of my craving for nicotine. And I knew that along with my final bite, that craving would return with renewed fury. So I ate it all; even the dry crust. And then, sure enough, as soon as it was gone, I wanted a smoke even more than ever. How stupid is that? I gained nothing but weight and a few tiny moments of relief from that pizza. The relief was very short-lived. The weight is going to be with me a lot longer.

Ah well�.. that was yesterday. This is today. I only have to worry about today. I think I can do that. If I can�t, then I only really have to worry about this moment. Minute by minute, I think I can beat this thing. No� I KNOW I can beat it. I don�t even care about the benefits of quitting right now. The better health, better skin, money saved, etc. I�m just pissed that I�m not in control of this chemical. I�m a pawn of the tobacco companies and the sinister molecules of whatever they choose to inflict on my body. That�s just unacceptable. Nobody controls Ms Leslie. You can kill her.. you can even eat her, but She�s going to be in control of her own destiny until then.

OK� now I have to exercise to see if I can sweat out the grease from that pizza.

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