On [Quitting] Smoking
I have always been averted to cigarette smoke—ironic, considering that I have been smoking for almost two years now. I remember hating my dad for smoking inside or near our house. We used to fight over it, with me throwing tantrums, complete with the I’m-allergic-to-cigarette-smoke-dad line. He’d just shrug it off, saying I’m just over-reacting or worse, imagining it.
But I was allergic to cigarette smoke. I’d start sneezing and coughing whenever I’d smell cigarette smoke. If it was my dad who was smoking, we’d start another tirade about it (it even came to a point when I showed him photos of cancer-stricken smokers’ lungs). It didn’t work. If it was someone else, particularly in public places where smoking is not really banned by law but not explicitly allowed, I’d give the mean eye to whoever that person was.
Imagine the hypocrisy when I started going to clubs. I didn’t mind feeling suffocated in a cigarette smoke-infested club as long as I was with friends, drinking, dancing, and having fun. I’d get stuffy nosed, and sometimes in clubs with poor exhaust, I’d get all red-and-teary-eyed. I’d go home after a whole night of enduring such, and my mom would be waiting by the door, ready to start her lecture with “You smell like an ashtray.“
A few years ago, I got into a relationship with a guy who started smoking when he was in high school. By that time, I had learned to master the art of holding my breath so as not to smell cigarette smoke. He’d smoke anywhere and anytime he had a chance and felt like smoking. My dad would rub this to my face when he wanted to insult and annoy me, or remind me that I just had my ‘karma’. It went like that for quite sometime, until the doomed relationship ended.
I could have been smoke-free until now, save for the club-going hypocrisy and my dad’s deliberate smoking to annoy me (which had, by the way, lessened over time); however, I went through a phase when I wanted to try anything and everything. I wanted to experience what it was like to be bad, be against the flow, have a vice. Smoking, sad to say, was the primary vice I thought about—an ultimate hypocrisy, indeed. Who would have thought that, one boring night in a bar, I would puff a friend’s cigarette and actually feel happy about it. It was just one puff of a stick of Marlboro reds; I remember I almost choked after trying it, but I consciously willed myself to like it and adapt my body to it. Soon enough, I was buying pack after pack of cigarettes of different brands and flavors. I tried and liked the more expensive and menthol ones, as my throat had less violent reactions to it. In a few weeks, I became the very type of person I swore I’d never be.
But I felt good. Smoking helped me through my sleepless nights while working part-time in a call center. It helped me relax before and after deadly Calculus exams. It made me feel more confident walking alone, waiting for friends in a club, or striking a conversation in an unfamiliar place. It helped me fight burn out and gave me much-needed breaks from stressful days at the office. It helped my creative juices flow more freely—seriously, after smoking a stick or two, I’d feel like I can write another 3000-word long article even though I have already done so. I’ve become a part of so many smokers’ cliques that gave me the feeling of exclusivity.
Smoking also helped shorten my breath, and I can’t breathe as deeply as I used to. I tire more easily now, and I feel cranky or lethargic whenever I haven’t had a stick for a few hours. My hair and my breath smells like an ashtray every time I’d smoke (mom was right, and I should know, I hated the smell as much as the smoke). I had break-outs and my skin felt drier. Worst of all? My smoking influenced my boyfriend to smoke, something I have regretted until now.
Midyear 2007, a few months after I started smoking and quitting and then smoking again, I decided that I was quitting smoking for good. It was my 22nd birthday, and I made a conscious effort to avoid smoking at all costs. I was working as a writer then, so it was a terrible time to quit (though I know that that time was as good as any). I craved for the feel of the smoke in my mouth, the stick between my lips and my fingers. To curb this craving, I ate a lot of comfort food; soon enough I had gained horrible pounds. I was able to survive for two months without a single puff, but it was damn hard. When I started again, I chain-smoked to make up for the time I quit.
My friend Dominic used to tell me, back when I have never puffed a single cigarette and wanted to try it, that smoking would never look good on me. He said I portray a different image, a personality where smoking doesn’t fit, and it would be better if I remain a healthy vegetarian who has all the fun without resorting to vices. The best thing he told me? Be SMART, don’t START. But I failed.
Well, I’ve had enough of the drama. Late last year, I made a conscious decision (again) to quit smoking, with the realization that I have to be easy on myself, all within limits of course. Since then, I have been smoking occasionally: a mere one or two sticks a day. This a great improvement, compared to my half-pack a day habit before. This year, I hope to continue to fight the urge to smoke regularly, and hopefully, before the end of the year, I have totally quit.
I admit this is going to be one hard feat to achieve. Bring me lethargy, crankiness, or damn weight gain, I don’t care. It’s about time, you know.
Life Rule No. 1: Nothing is Ever Certain
In this world, no one can expect life to ever be certain. People come and go; times change, norms evolve. One moment the world is at a high, the next it has crashed to its lowest point. Depressing, yes, but that’s life.
Early this morning, I was getting my daily dose of world news when I stumbled upon a most saddening story: 20 year-old Brazilian model and beauty pageant finalist, Mariana Bridi da Costa, died this morning from a disease that has ravaged her body since December. It was reported that the young beauty had suffered from necrosis, the fast deadening of tissue, which was caused by septicemia brought about by bacterial infection in her urinary tract. The drug-resistant bacteria, Pseudomonas aeruginosa, spread throughout her body, which led doctors decide to amputate her hands and feet in a desperate attempt to save her life.
Just almost a month ago, Mariana was a healthy girl who was set to become another top Brazilian supermodel. She was to compete in the second stage of the model search started by Dilson Stein, the same agent who has introduced the world to Brazilian national treasure, Gisele Bündchen. It is really depressing to read about someone who had dreams for herself and her family (she was their bread-winner), die at such a young age.
Mariana’s sad story only affirms the uncertainty of our lives. In the world of business and fashion, and the lives of celebrities and common folks alike, uncertainty is inevitable. One can have the fattest trust-fund, the biggest fan base, the fairest face, or the most loving family in the world, but one can never be so sure.
Pessimistic, yes, but that’s life.
Chiquito’s Growing Up Fast
Earlier today, my boyfriend and I took Chiquito to his vet in Carveldon Clinic at Cartimar, the biggest place to shop for pets and pet accessories in Manila. It was his fifth visit, and he had his second 6-in-1 shot. It was also his last visit to the vet, although by April, we’ll need to bring him back for his heart worm prevention shot.
This afternoon, like in any vet visit, Chiquito was weighed by the vet’s assistant. For the past few visits, he consistently weighed between 1.2 to 1.4 kilograms. This afternoon, however, we were surprised by the obvious increase in his weight: he now weighs 2 kilograms! When we visited a friend last Friday night, with Chiquito in tow, my friend pointed out that Chiquito has grown longer and taller. I just shrugged it off and told her that they just haven’t seen each other for a long time, which was why the changes were that obvious. Apparently, my boyfriend and I really haven’t noticed that Chiquito had grown up over the course of the weeks he’s been with us.
And boy, had he grown up. From being a cute, little lap puppy, Chiquito has now become a cute, super playful little doggie in a span of less than a month. He has changed taste preferences too, and now favors flavored foods. We started feeding him High-Energy Super Premium Natural Balance, as he has learned to totally ignore his old, über-commercialized dog food, Alpo Puppy (I know, bad choice). We bought him new treats too, as he now dislikes his old Pedigree Milky Bone biscuit treats (yeah, another bad choice). He absolutely loves the Sleeky Beef and Cheese flavored treats we bought him this afternoon.
I’m proud to say that Chiquito has learned new tricks: sit, shake paw, and lie down. He has yet to learn how to properly obey stay, because he always always pauses only for a mere few seconds before jumping up and down again. Most importantly, Chiquito needs to learn where to properly pee and poo. He’s been driving me nuts by pooping in various places around our house! For peeing though, he has successfully learned to look for newspaper sheets placed in a corner of my boyfriend’s room, or on the rugs in front of bathroom doors.
I’m hoping too, that Chiquito will already outgrow his gnawing and floor-licking habit. He’s been gnawing and chewing on anything interesting that comes his way. He has already gnawed out the straps of my favorite pastel pink Havaianas and rendered it useless. He has also chewed on my boyfriend’s new leather shoes when it has just been worn once. Thankfully, his teeth marks were not too obvious on the black leather (hehe). My sister’s house too, has had it share of Chiquito’s teeth marks: the corner of their sofa, her kid’s books and papers in a rack, and countless toys and plushies (ok, I maybe exaggerating on the ‘countless’ part, but still).
Chiquito’s floor-licking habit has also been a constant source of (slight) annoyance. He’ll lick up anything he smells interesting on tile, linoleum, wooden, concrete (you name it!) floors. This licking habit also extends to various surfaces, including (but not limited to), chairs, cabinets, tables, beds, and faces (haha)! It really baffles me as to why he keeps on doing it. Anyway, he would need to outgrow this habit the soonest, so we’d be able to take him out for walks.
Speaking of, I was so happy to find out that we can already let Chiquito walk outside (yay) by next week! I told my sister Abi and my friend Kimi about this, and we have already started making plans to go to Serendra, Boni High Street, Eastwood, Tiendesitas, Market Market, or any other place/mall that allows pets. I can’t wait. Heee. 
* More photos of Chiquito here.
