Posted by Tammy on March 10, 2007, 8:50:04 Mother must have understood, because she just smiled, lit up one of her Camel Filter 100s, and handed it to me. She warned me not to swallow the smoke, but I didn’t listen, and tried to inhale anyhow; I got nauseous. Mother laughed about it; it bothered me at the time, but the next day I was fine, and I asked for another cigarette. Mother anticipated this; she was one step ahead of me as she had already purchased two packs of Tareyton Lights: “learner cigarettes,”she called them. I paid attention this time as Mother had me go easy at first, lighting the Tareytons up for me, coaching me to take crisp drags without swallowing the smoke; it was fun, she was supportive, and it turned into daily smoking lessons. I worked at inhaling a little at a time. By the end of the first pack, two or so weeks, I could inhale lightly without coughing. I enthusiastically inhaled every Tareyton Light in the second pack with increasing pleasure; the learning curve was steep. Mom encouraged me to inhale deeply by expanding my chest, and I quickly learned it was the best way to smoke. It became second nature early on. When the second pack was gone, in less than another week’s time, cigarettes already tasted special. I asked for more Tareyton Lights, but Mother refused, and bought me Marlboros instead. I wanted to know why, but she just said that I was ready. And she was right. I recall that first Marlboro as if I just smoked it. We were sitting at the kitchen table when Mother handed me the fresh pack. It was Saturday morning, and I was already hungry for a cigarette. I was excited as she tutored me through opening a pack for the first time. I remember her showing me how to remove the wrapper, unfold the foil, tear it clean, and tap out a cigarette. After showing me, Mother edged the Marlboros back into the pack, then had me practice a few times until I could tap out a cigarette for myself. I immediately liked the aroma of the Marlboro tobacco, and my heart started racing as soon as I placed the filter to my lips; I could sense the rich tobacco immediately. Mom gave me a light, and the ultimate thrill came when I inhaled: the flavor was enlightening. The smoke pleasantly penetrated my lungs with complete pleasure and I fell into a momentary trance. My eyes closed and I had a sense of floating. I couldn’t believe the exhale smoke, either; it flowed through my lips, thick and sculpted. I took another puff on my Marlboro, and to my surprise, it was more satisfying than the one before it. I was progressively excited by the full flavored rush, that instant the Marlboro essence flooded my system. I didn’t find it harsh at all. It was a fulfilling smoking experience in every way. Each drag was increasingly satisfying, yet it left me craving for more. I dragged and inhaled a little harder each time, warming up to the Marlboro as it was calling out to me. Mother watched me smoke my first Marlboro down to the filter. When I put it out in the ashtray, I looked up and she was smiling; she knew what I had experienced, what I was becoming. She handed me the pack, silently acknowledging the moment. “I’m proud of you,” is all she said.
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I started smoking Marlboros when I was ten years old. Mother let me take occasional puffs on her cigarette before that, but when I was in the forth grade, I started asking on a regular basis. So Mother offered to teach me to inhale, if that’s what I wanted. She said I was old enough to smoke, but cautioned me that smoking had to be learned; it took time and commitment; and once it was learned, it was difficult to stop. It was also bad for you. I assured her I wanted to smoke cigarettes. I explained to Mother that I had the “smoking negatives” drummed into me since kindergarten, and they meant nothing to me.
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