Posted by Ann on 12/7/2011, 11:28 am
198.228.223.171
Where to start? I guess most people would consider me to be a typical 45 year-old working mother and housewife, but I also have a secret. One that nobody knows about. I am a closet smoker and have been for more than 30 years. Those who do know me consider me a non-smoker. In public I despise smokers, calling it a filthy habit for people who have no will power, but privately, when I'm all alone I indulge in this nasty habit feeding my secret nicotine addiction. I'm not a bad person, just a person with a bad habit that I've been hiding from friends and family for more than three decades.
My secret started back in 1980 when my best friend, Tanya, and I tried our first cigarette. It wasn't an overly enjoyable experience. It smelled bad, tasted awful and made me cough, but for a 13 year-old catholic school-girl it was exciting to be doing something bad.
I didn't love smoking and certainly wasn't addicted, but from time to time Tanya and I would sneak the illicit cigarette from our mothers then sneak off to the woods and share it while we talked about boys and how much fun high school would be. To this day Tanya is one of two people I know who has ever seen me smoke. Because we ended up at different high schools we did not see each other as often. I was always athletic and played sports, so my social circle at school was other kids who played sports. None of them ever knew about my dirty little secret, but on weekends I would sneak off to smoke a cigarette by myself. I missed having a friend there to talk with, but I couldn't take the chance of someone finding out.
There was a certain thrill I felt doing something so totally out of character for me, but there was also the fear of getting caught. I took many precautions to prevent that from ever happening. I didn't smoke a lot then. Usually just one or two on a weekend if I was lucky. Sometimes I would go a couple weeks between cigarettes. I probably should've quit then. The irony is that during this time my mother quit smoking. I was so proud of her for doing this, but not once did quitting ever cross my mind. In fact all I could think of was my cigarette supply was now gone. I'm sure if my mother knew this she would be ashamed.
Fortunately for me, back in those days, most convenience stores did not check I.D. when you bought cigarettes. I would walk several miles to a store run by a Vietnamese family to buy cigarettes. They were around $1 a pack then too. I would hide my pack in the garage so, if accidentally found, nobody would suspect they were mine. The fact I no longer had to steal cigarettes from mom meant less chance of her finding out. I started smoking more frequently. Instead of just weekends I would head to the library on weeknights, stopping off to smoke a cigarette on the way there. Where a pack had once lasted a month at first, it was now barely making it a week and frequently found myself needing a cigarette to calm down after a stressful event. I was now addicted, but continued to hide it. Once I started driving I had even more freedom and would go off by myself to smoke taking many precautions not to get caught.
The only other time someone I knew saw me smoke a cigarette was back when I worked as a bank teller one summer. There was a break room in back and in those days smoking was allowed in designated areas of publics buildings. Most of my co-workers were smokers and would spend their break smoking in the break room. After dealing with a very irate customer, who had me almost in tears, my supervisor told me to take a break. I walked into the break room where a lady named Janet was having a cigarette on her break. All I remember is asking her for a cigarette. She was shocked that I even asked for a cigarette as she asked me if I was a smoker. I just told her there are times I just need a cigarette to calm down and this is one of those times. She reluctantly gave me one and I lit up and started puffing away. I finished the cigarette and thanked her. Later on I realized how close I'd come to outing myself as a smoker. It was odd. Here I was, 20 years-old and afraid people will find out I'm a smoker.
The only other people who have seen me smoke are total strangers. One of my first jobs out of college required extensive travel. For the first time in my life I felt far enough away from friends and family to comfortably smoke in public. It was a feeling of freedom I'd never experienced before, but as soon as I returned home I would go back to sneaking around afraid of what my friends and family might think. I would only smoke about three cigarettes a day if I was home and there were several days I smoked none at all. Yet when I was traveling for work I could put away a whole pack in a day.
Eventually I met my husband. He's very much into a healthy life-style and has always known me as a non-smoker. For 18 years I've hid this secret from him, my best friend who I've shared many wonderful experiences with. He has no clue I'm a secret smoker. I have had many close calls over the years, but instead of giving up cigarettes I just get better at hiding it.
I also have two children who have no clue I'm a smoker. In fact I constantly tell them how disgusting and unhealthy smoking is. Guess that makes me the definition of irony. I didn't smoke when I was pregnant. Even the smell of smoke made me want to throw-up. In fact both times I managed to not have a cigarette for more than a year, but the stress of motherhood got to me and I found myself racing to the store for a pack of relief. Now they are getting close to that age where I tried my first cigarette and I pray they never ever try one.
So here I am, 31+ years later. Still sneaking around to enjoy my dirty little secret. I leave for work 20 minutes earlier than I need to. After a stop at Starbucks I drive to a park where I have a cigarette or two. On my lunch hour I drive to another park or, if it's raining, to the top floor of the parking garage at the mall. There I enjoy my chai latte and a couple of cigarettes. On my way home I'll stop again for another cigarette or two. This has been my daily routine for the last six years. If I'm having a bad day I might smoke half a pack, but typically it's only four or five. I don't smoke in my car. I wear a jacket I keep in the trunk to keep my clothes from smelling of smoke. I use a hand lotion to cover the smell of the cigarette on my hands and go through lots of gum/mints to cover my breath. When I get home from work the first thing I do is brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash then eat an apple or banana to cover that.
The worst part about being a closet smoker has to be weekends. If I'm busy I don't have time to think about a cigarette, but if I'm bored or stressing over some issue, it's all I can think about. I will make up any excuse to get away from my family just to have a few puffs. It's truly sad I want that cigarette more than I want to be with my family, but that's what addictions do to people and even though I'll never call myself a smoker, there's no denying the fact I'm addicted to cigarettes.
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