Smoke & Mirrors

I'm not sure when I officially became a smoker...when the addiction really took hold. I can recall a strong feeling of knowing that I could still quit - but I lost it somewhere along the way between being the person asking "hey, can I bum a smoke?" and the one irritably relenting, "sure, have one of mine." I made it to the point of lamenting an emptied box after an all-night outing, but not to the point of actually buying cartons (thank God).

I remember watching those first few episodes of "Sex and the City." Carrie made smoking look so fabulous. A long, lighted cigarette was the perfect accessory to any outfit, the final touch to each devastatingly poignant scene. I worshiped the ending to each show with her at her laptop, cigarette hanging out of the corner of her lips, concluding some wonderfully profound thought.

But it wasn't just the look of it. It's what it represented: smoking makes you cooler. You look like you've got something significant to do, completely indifferent to those around you because you're just too cool. But for me, it began to run deeper than that. Because I started to smoke in my Jeep when no one was around to even appreciate how damn cool I looked. "Sweet Home Alabama" or Lenny Kravitz's "Lady" would come on the radio and I would feel I had no choice but to immediately grab for the pack and struggle with the lighter in the wind for a few minutes before deeply inhaling and then shouting out the lyrics on the exhale. It was exhilarating. It was breaking the rules. It was James Dean and Colin Farrell and Thelma & Louise.

My grandmama smoked for years until an emphysema threat finally scared her off. My mom drew deeply on her Virginia Super Slims underneath a sun hat by the pool until her high blood pressure and incessant coughing stole the fun from it.


It's been almost three weeks since I've had a cigarette now. I took five minutes off my jogging time. I look in the mirror and see whiter teeth, healthier skin. I don't see Carrie the fabulous smoker anymore, but I do see Carrie the writer I so wanted to be. Because in the end I realized something: you can take the cigarette out of your hand and the smug look off your face...and the person looking back at you in the mirror will be cooler than ever.