Almost two weeks smoke-free! The celebrations, the pats on the back, and the endless “You did it!” are all great, but now it’s time to move on to the next chapter. My little brother has decided I’ve had enough of my victory lap and is pushing me toward diet and exercise.
Now, I’m not trying to become Mr. Atlas here. I quit smoking mainly to make sure the cancer is gone and stays gone—not to sculpt a marble statue of myself. But I’ll admit, the little cynic may have a point. Usually, I’d question how he thinks he knows so much, but to be fair, he does have a Master’s degree in biology and studied cancer research at UCI. Still, science or not, I’ve seen his “research bias” before—like the time he wrote me a two-page report claiming my brain was degenerating. (Thanks, Doc.)
That said, the confetti’s settling, and it’s time to trade the ticker-tape parade for a treadmill. My bones are weak, my muscles need some love, and my beloved morning Mountain Dew might have to be replaced with something green and foamy—like a smoothie. (Pray for me.)
But maybe there’s a silver lining. Maybe focusing on health will give me a chance to connect more with my brother—talking about something he’s passionate about, even if it means getting roasted along the way. So here’s to diet, exercise, and sibling science lectures.
Turns out, there’s more to being a nonsmoker than just putting the butt out.
by Dan and Bonkers
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