Just Poking Around

Just browsing through my computer to see what can be cleaned up and sent away and found this.  Don't know when I wrote it but in my extreme laziness I thought I would use it instead of doing the hard work.  That's just me all over.

I quit smoking many years ago. I loved it. I smoked my first cigarette the summer after I graduated from high school, yes, I was a late bloomer. I felt so mature as soon as I held that cigarette between my fingers. I was immediately a grown woman. Of course I couldn't go down alone so I encouraged all my girlfriends to join me and they did. There were about six of us and we sat in the parking lot of the A&W (which by the way had car service at the time) puffing away. It was midweek and we knew our fathers were in the city working and our mothers had no cars...my mother didn't have her license at that time so we knew no one of consequence would spot us.

I went away to college and smoked as if I had never not done so. My mother told me she knew I smoked in her unique way..she never said a word, she gave me a cigarette case and lighter for Christmas. Nuff said. It was red (at the time and from time to time my favorite color) the lighter was silver - in color only - and I loved them. Talk about Hollywood happy. I felt like Katherine Hepburn (well shorter and plumper but every bit as elegant) as I opened that case, removed a Tareyton and lit up with my gleaming lighter. Even better was the ashtray set for my bedroom. Odd to have it in my bedreoom since I was never to smoke there and don't recall doing so but the ashtray set had a glass container for cigarettes that I had only seen in movies at that time. Lift the cover and offer a cigarette to a guest...you talk about sophisticated.

Well time moves on and common sense prevails and by the time you know you really can't smoke any more, the habit has taken such a hold on you that the struggle is one of the largest you have ever faced in your life. I won but still recall those elegant moments, those Hollywood sophisticated moves of removing the cigarette from the case or the holder on the coffee table, the feel of the cigarette between my fingers and the leaning back and exhaling the first puff........

You know that poem that says when I'm whatever age I shall wear purple? The hell with purple....I'm buying a carton of cigarettes, a red leather holder for the pack and a silver lighter. That's my plan......how old should I be do you think? I'll deal with that later..