As I sat down at my computer this morning with my coffee, getting ready for my usual job search, it dawned on me that I hadn't really craved a cigarette in a while. Coffee and cigarettes used to go hand in hand, but I'm nearing week 5 and the closest I've come to smoking again is a total of three drags on three separate occasions when I was inebriated; so drunk and out of control, in one case, that I was booted from my family reunion for swearing like a sailor in front of my aunts and nieces.
The urge for cigarettes isn't as strong. If someone lit up in front of me a few weeks ago I'd be foaming at the mouth, on the verge of asking for a drag. When my mom lit up in front of me yesterday, all I could think was, "That smells terrible." The smell is pungent too. I can smell my dad smoking while my door is closed and he's downstairs on the couch. As for the general public, I can smell the telltale ashtray odor of a smoker's clothing from across a store, all the while chuckling about how I used to stink as bad.
I can taste food again too, though I eat twice as much. To combat my hunger, I drink a lot of water, and I have started exercising 5 days a week. I'm up to 7 to 10 miles a session on my exercise bike, depending on the day, and I can almost run 3 miles without having to slow to a walk to catch my breath--it usually averages out to about half an hour. I can tell I'm not gaining weight, because when I tug on my stomach or under my chin there's less to hold on to and the skin is tighter. On a side-note, the pools of phlegm with black/gray clumps I've coughed up over the past month are pretty disgusting.
I think I've made progress. I'm not quite at a point where I can say I've kicked the habit for good, yet I think that day is a little closer. Right now, cigarettes are like an ex-lover that pop into my head at the oddest times, and I can feel the growing distance as we diverge onto separate paths, the yearning less as I learn to live without them.