72 hours… Time it takes to get all the nicotine out. I’m almost half way there. I probably shouldn’t be drinking coffee.
It’s a trigger. Coffee and a cigarette. Peanut butter and jelly. Eggs and bacon. How can you have one without the other??? Jesus, a smoke and a cup of joe as been my breakfast of choice for as long as I can remember.
I am excited about smelling like a nonsmoker. I’m always paranoid about if I smell gross or have smoker’s breath. (I’m sure the answer to both had always been yes, but I deluded myself into thinking some gum or perfume would cover it).
So… Between smelling nicer and not having necrotizing incisions, those are the only two parts I’m into. The rest of it… I want to say fuck it and grab a pack on my way to the gym.
But I’ve come half way through the worst if it, and I’ll be goddammed if I’m going to go through the last 31 hours again. Eff that. This is crazy hard. Mind bogglingly hard.
DH (dear husband, or, douchey husband) said to just count down my two weeks prior to surgery and the two after, because he’s certain I’ll just start again as soon as I’m just enough healed from surgery. I don’t know what his angle is there… But it makes me want to punch him in his babymaker…
Ugh. To the gym. Miss both my workout buddies. 😦
Gotta burn off the extra calories I’ve been consuming. I need a nicotine free cigarette.
flattening 