So, here I am—one week in and officially counting the days. Seven days. It feels a bit strange to count the days in a place where I can’t smoke anyway. It’s not like I’ll get a shiny chip for this, and there’s definitely no 12-step program in my future. I’m over that scene. I once had eight years smoke-free, but it was their decision to kick me out that drove me right back to the cigarettes. But hey, no point dwelling on the past, right? This time, I’m taking control.
I’m not doing this for a pat on the back or some grand ceremony. I’m doing it for me—and I’ll reward myself my way. I have two amazing friends supporting me through this, both women, and they’ve been such a positive influence. We’ve got a plan: after hitting a certain number of smoke-free days, if I can talke them into treating me to Sizzler. I mean, come on, Sizzler! That’s worth more than any chip if you ask me.
It’s not easy, but with these strong women by my side, I feel like I’ve got this. We’ll see how the next week goes, but I’m feeling strong. Seven days down, a lifetime to go—and maybe a steak dinner in between. I’m just sayin’.
