Thanks OBob, for the reminder. I haven't had any craves in the past two days, just those old black urges -- the fantasy smoke, I call it, that says how good it was when I know it wasn't good. It didn't taste good -- that harsh, hot burning in your throat. It certainly didn't feel good after hundreds and thousands of cigs had gone down -- it felt depressing and desperate and out of control a lot of the time after all those years. It smelled hideous. It snuck up on your clothes, your hair, your rooms, your car, days afterwards -- yuck! The other day I found a towel that someone had hung on the back of the door in a bathroom that only gets used once in a while, and I could smell it as soon as I opened the door -- that stale, rank smell of cigarettes. So what was good? The fantasy, that early cigarette that pretended to make you feel ahhhhh.
And the fantasy that one puff could solve a problem instead of feeling a hundred problems. Thanks, OBob. NTAP, Best, Joanne