… that I wish I smoked.

Okay, so clearly that statement is untrue on pretty much every single level. Except for the fact that I am so restless and fidgety and stressed out at the moment, and I’ve started biting my nails again, and when I see smokers, inhaling deeply, they seem to blow away their troubles with that lungful of smoke.

And smoking is cool. Well, at least it used to be. Let’s not deny it people! James Dean anyone? Carrie Bradshaw? Why else would people smoke, if not to look cool*? I mean, it’s not like it tastes any good, or does your health any favours. Let’s all just admit it. There’s something cool and sexy about smoking. I know that’s why I experimented with cigarettes (I’m such a rebel) while I was at uni. A few of the people I hung out with at uni smoked while we were out drinking, so, being the little sheep that I can be, I gave it a whirl. And it was oh-so-foul, but you know, it was cool. I felt cool. I’m sure I looked like an idiot (I probably scrunched up my face from the yucky taste and didn’t inhale properly!) And it made me sick. I have asthma and I know it exacerbated it. I’m even quite convinced it gave me a horrible old man cough that stuck around for 18 months.

Why did I stop? I tried one while I was stone cold sober. That was it for me. I’ve never touched them since, and have reverted back to my snooty-nose face when I get stuck walking behind someone who is smoking, or when I’m on my way in to the hospital to visit Nanny, and all the smokers (and there are lots) are crowding around the gates to have their cigarettes because you can no longer smoke inside government grounds.

But to have that feeling of blowing all your problems away, into the wind, even if it’s just a feeling and not an actuality… Well. That is certainly appealing.

*obviously, apart from the whole addiction thing