Weddingbee Blog

This is a commentary on my life from my perspective. It is in no way a judgement of anything or anyone other than myself.

Recently, for the first time, I experienced a VERY unsettling feeling –my clothes started fitting a little more (and more) snugly. Now, this is something I’ve never dealt with before. Perhaps the dryer fried my jeans and the dry cleaners ruined my suits, I thought. I finally hopped on a scale for the first time in years and was shocked at the digital horrors that lie before me. I was convinced the stupid thing was broken. Long story short it wasn’t. How did this happen? Well, it was my own damn fault.

You see, I don’t think that good genes and luck had much to do with the fact that I haven’t had weight issues in the past. It was my addiction. Here’s the thing - when I was about 16, I took up the lovely habit of smoking. As the years rolled on, the one constant in my life (aside from Mr. Lemonade) were my buddies, my cigarettes. And man, I LOVED them. I am one of those people who truly adores the taste, smell, feel of tobacco, and the ritual of smoking. Loved it. Still do. And I wholeheartedly fed my addiction. I mean, I didn’t just smoke when I hit the bars with my girls on a Friday night. I smoked then, but I also smoked that morning when I woke up, on the way to work, about 10 times at work, in the car on the way home…you get the idea.

This went on for about 10 years before I even considered quitting. Then, a few years ago, Mr. Lemonade started being more vocal about his disdain for my little buddies (he does not smoke, never has). So, I kinda sorta made a few lame attempts at quitting – the patch, tapering off one less each week, hypnosis. Nothing worked so I gave up and kept on with my usual habits.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. One night this past May I was in my bedroom, and for no apparent reason I lost it. I mean a big time, hiccup inducing bawl-fest and I had no idea why. It was in that moment that I realized something. This is FOR REAL. I am getting married and planning the rest of my life, and at the same time slowly committing suicide (and paying someone a lot of freakin’ money for it). Smoking no longer made any logical sense to me. I had some of the craziest dreams that night, but when I woke up, I was a changed person. Out of by rote habit I lit up once more that morning. It was the last time I smoked a cigarette.

So, here we are almost 5 months later and while there are countless benefits to my new found smoke-free life, there have also been numerous hurdles to jump. Mr. Lemonade has had to witness things no man should have to witness, things that have truly tested our relationship.

And to top it all off, now I’ve gained a lot of weight.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m in NO WAY trying to discourage anyone from quitting smoking. I am now firmly in the camp of ex-smokers who think that smoking is a vile habit that will kill you (although I do sometimes take a nice deep breath as I walk past the entrance of a club where the exiles huddle and get their fix). Period. But I also want to share the realities of how freakin’ hard it is, and how there are other not so fun side effects of quitting that one should expect. That said, I encourage any of you out there who are on the fence and need that last little nudge of encouragement to quit that you CAN do it. Take it from me, one of the weakest people you’ll ever meet (really), it is possible.

And you know what? I’m actually almost grateful I gained the weight. For the first time in my life I’ve had to make healthy lifestyle decisions, decisions that I can sustain for the rest of my (hopefully long, healthy, and happy) life.