Kicking the Habit
"I wanta cigarette with everyfiberof mybeing!"
These are the words of a self
professed addict who claims she spends
her day thinking about when she'll get
her next “fix.”
Mary Beth Owen is not a patient in
drug rehab, she’s a student at Meredith
College. Cigarettes are her life. What an
appropriate subject for a story on the
American Cancer Society’s Great
American Smokeout, which is planned
for this Wednesday, November 15.
The following is an account of a day
in the life of smoker trying her darndest
to kick the habit for a 24-hour period.
I was asked by the Herald staff to
oblige them and the students of Meredith
College by giving a step by step account
of one day in my life. While that may
seem mundane to many of you, the
request was not just an account of my
day. You see, I am a smoker.
On one level I am embarrassed by
the grip tobacco has on me, on another
level I love iL I love to smoke! It’s ugly
and smells bad, offensive to many and
deadly to some; nonetheless, I love it
Anyway, I was asked to quit for one
day in order to enlighten others of the
difficulty involved in eliminating a
chemical dependance—so here goes.
Saturday, November 10,1990—
8:35 a.m. I just woke up. Normally,
I fix a pot of coffee, drink a cup, smoke
a cigarette and scan the paper. But no
cigareae—1 feel panicky. Maybe I’ll swill
the coffee and then jump in the shower.
I’ll fill all the gaps in my day with some
productive activity in order to keep
myself preoccupied. (Avoidance of
reality: I want a cigarette with every
fiber of my being!) Sick child that I am!
9:30 a.m. I’ve been awake for an
hour. I have had my coffee and shower,
finished the aossword puzzle, washed
the dishes, walked my dogs, done a
load of laundry. It’s amazing how much
you can do in an hour! (Not only do I
want a cigarette with every fiber of my
being, but with every fiber on the fibers
of my being!)
10:30 a.m Well, my house is
immaculate. I’ve eaten breakfast as well
as all the leftover Halloween candy. I
can’t seen to find the right thing to pul
in my mouth. I want to smoke. I start to
rationalize as to why I shouldn’t just go
ahead and light up—who would know?
I’ll just make up a bunch of stuff about
how anxious I am and they’ll never
know. (From the right lobe: But you’ll
know you smoke—you’ll know!)
11:30 a.m. I can't take much more
of this. I don’t think I’m going to make
iL I’ve done 95 minutes of aerobics and
1 still want one. That’s the best one, you
know. After you have worked up a
sweat, done something really good for
yourself, you reward yourself with a
self-destructive activity. A big fat ciggy!
12:30 p.m. I’m feeling good now.
I’ve been awake for four hours. No
smoke, lots of food, a good workout
Maybe I’ll study. Maybe I’ll go into
respiratory fitness. I’ll become a lung
surgeon, or counsel people trying to
quit. Get real- -I’m going to the store
and buying a carton.
1:30 p.m. Well, I bought a carton
but have yet to smoke one. I can do this.
I feel like someone has taken away my
best friend. I’ve been dumped by a man.
I’m drowning. No, I’m being deprived
of my life support system and I’m almost
out of my coma. HELP!
2:30 p.m. Give me Marlboro’s or
give me death.
3:30 p.m. I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.
This day is moving so slowly. I tried to
study but I have this free hand—my
smoking hand. If only I were
ambidextrous right now. I could take
notes with both hands. What am I going
to do with this free hand.’
4:30 p.m. I lied at 3:30. I’m not fine.
I’m a wreck. I’m disgusted with myself
I’m mad a Julia and all of the Herald staff
for asking me to do this. Why did I
agree? I’m pathetic!
5:28p.m. Well, I’ve made it through
the whole day—part of the day. Oh, IT’S
SATURDAY NIGHT! How will I deal
with the night part’ Thank goodness it’s
almost time for dinner.
6:30 p.m. Well, I blew it. I didn't
make it. I’m a failure. I feel terrible. I
have to admit that it was one of the best
cigarettes I’ve ever had in my life.
While this small account of someone
deeply embroiled in addiction may seem
pathetic and silly, pathetic is the operative
word here.
Being addicted to anything is very
difficult to overcome and, while I don’t
believe I can properly express the anxiety
I felt during this little experiment, I think
it’s safe to say that something unnatural
has an enormous grip on my life.
It’s really not amusing, it’s sad. I
only hope my next attempt and that of
all those trying to quit are more successful
than I was today.
From his perspective
Happy to be
weaker sex
by Dennis Rogers
Don’t tell me women are the weaker
sex. The average man-beer drinking,
football watching, bird killing, leering
swine that he is-would last about 15
minutes if forced to undergo the pain
and stress of womanhood.
Don't get me wrong. I admire men,
too. I’ve been one for a pretty good
stretch of time now, and I like it but
what 1 admire about men is our ability
to make things as easy as possible.
You want proof? The TV remote
control.
That’s clearly a man’s invention. If
women had their way they would put
the TV controls inside a lion's cage in
the attic. Women never do things the
easy way and men always do.
Examples abound. If a man walked
into a store an d saw a shirt and then he
picked it up and saw that the buttons
were on the back, he’d laugh the clerk
out of town. Women not only will keep
looking at the buttons-on-the-back
blouse, there is a pretty good chance
they actually will give the clerk money
for it.
Same thing with pants. They’ll buy
pants with the zipper on the front, the
back or the side. Not a man. If that
darned zipper is not where he can find
it in a hurry, if you know what I mean,
we’re not going to buy it. We don’t want
to have to search for the fly.
A man complains about having to
wear a necktie. Oh, it is choking me, the
poor baby whines. What a wimp! Try 10
minutes in a p>air of high heel shoes, Mr.
Macho Man.
Only a woman would have the
courage to wear a pair of shoes that
could not, under any circumstances,
actually be comfortable or be good for
you. Not only do they put them on, they
leave the house and risk serious injury
from sidewalk grates, curbs, soft lawns,
dog do-do and dancing men. And they
have the guts to do it without offering a
single, rational reason.
My hat’s off to you women, Feet of
iron. But do us all a favor and don’t
complain that your feet hurt! How could
they not hurt’
Ask a beardless man about shaving
and he’ll go on and on about how
terrible it is. Oh, dragging a sharp steel
razor against his soft baby face (all men
say they have a tough beard and soft
skin) is such a downer. Every morning
he’s got to shave. On and on he goes.
Get real, guys. Not only do women
of the
shave their armpiis (how’s that j»ound,
Mr. Tough Guy?) they rip the hairs of
their eyebrows out by the roots. Yc.s,
that’s right, they grab them with tweezers
and FULL! You want pain? 'I ry coverinji
your hairy old legs with hot wax, let it
get hard then quickly RIP I'l’ OFl'! Oh.
yeah. And women do it all the time.
I could go on here, but you get the
picture. Not only is it not easy being a
woman, what with sex discrimination,
childbirth and a constant diet of salads,
it hurts. “1 am woman, hear me roar," is
exactly what I'd do if someone handed
me a little device that looks suspiciously
like an electric razor and 1 ran it over my
soft face and it pulled the hairs out
rather than cutting them off.
Although, to be honest, women can
get a little whiny on this childbirth thing.
Yeah, yeah, 1 know it is a tad
uncomfortable giving birth to a 10-
pound thing with arms and legs sticking
every which way, but guys, what about
kidney stones? A woman voluntarily
will have more than one kid but you’d
belter bring a gun and some Demerol if
you expect me to go through that again.
•Reprinted from the News & Observer,
October 25, 1990 by permission of the
News & Oi^ertfer Publishing Co.,
Raleigh, NC
Letters...
opportunities should have dwindled that
night and 1 feel tltai it is a disgrace for the
citizens of this slate to have re-elected
him as iheir representative, he certainly
is not mine.
In his viaoiy speech last evening.
Jesse Helms commented on the loss of
Muddville, clearly geared towards the
Harvey Gantt campaign and supporters,
as well as the candidate himself To me
this statement of racial prejudice
emphasizes the narrow mind of Jesse
Helms. The “North Carolina values" that
he repeatedly stated in his campaign are
simply a reflection of the opmions of the
conservative persons ol' this; state - the
majority. W hat about the minority? With
S>9% of the presints (sici tallied, the
percentage was Helms 53% to Gantt
47%. Clearly, the minority has
reservations about Helms’ ideas of North
Carolina values and about the Senator
himself
Lee Connelly
• 1 ;. . ... I> . I ; I > t > ■ . t t)/1 '
November 12, 1990 Pcge 3