A Bootylicious Affair with A Paper Wrapper

It’s been exactly three weeks since I had my last cigarette.

No one ever promised anyone that quitting smoking would be easy, but somehow it was easier than I thought. Much to my wonder, all I need hitherto is my willpower. Well, that and a sore throat, reeking shirt, yellow teeth and tiny holes on my pants. Yeah, those should be good enough reasons for me to start chewing blueberry-mint-flavored chewing gum instead.

‘Course, so far I have managed to survive only three consecutive nicotine-free weekends. Negligible, to consider that I have been taking drags for 15 years. Wait, that’s...more than 700 weekends of smoking, and with my one-pack-a-day dose, amounts to...err...cough! cough!...lots of cigarette butts.

Well, it’s been nice knowing your butt, Miss Nicotine. But I hope we won’t cross each other’s path all over again.