There’s something you need to know about me. It’s not pretty, and I’m not proud to admit it, but I used to smoke cigarrettes.  It was before my blogging life began and part of my Montreal party lifestyle. I know it’s disgusting and I finally  managed to quit seven months ago. (I think being with the FC helped. With him, I had a reason to live (plus, him being younger I had to step up my odds of aging gracefully.) Quitting cigarrettes was also a sacrifice to the gods of love that put him in my path.  I’d been given so much, I had to give something up in exchange.


So far, it’s been smooth sailing. (I think blogging helped actually, because it kept my fingers busy and provided an outlet for all the extra energy I had to burn.) 


But now it’s the FC’s turn to quit. (Yes, he smokes.  It’s his one flaw. But he’s French, so it went with the accent. ) 


Right now the FC is on Day Four. No patch. No gum.  Like me, he decided to go cold turkey, and it’s not easy.


Last night at a dinner party chez nous (more on the amazing ratatouille we made in the next post)  he was crawling the walls, fidgetty, and compensating by downing copious amount of wine, cheese, and  snarfing up three homemade brownies my friend Peter made for dessert.  Not very sexy behaviour, right? Wrong!


Sacrifice, discipline and self control are hot.  Watching the FC struggle, and succeed, made me so proud.


In the coming weeks of nicotine withdrawal hell, I’ll do my best to support him, encouraging him to exercise and also providing him with nutritious snacks. (I’ll also benefit, since I still have to shed the five lbs I racked up in the process of quitting.) Also, by blogging about it, I instantly up the stakes. If he fails, he fails not just himself, but the blog– and that’s serious, because the blog represents everything I hope us to be. The blog is us at our best. It’s our smoke-free internet alter ego, and the FC is keenly aware of that fact.


So stay tuned.




Last night, the FC was so desparate he grabbed by friend Georgia's cigarrettes, fully prepared to smoke ten ciggies all at once. Fortuantely, we stopped him just in time.

Last night, the FC was so desparate he grabbed my friend Georgia's cigarrettes, determined to smoke ten ciggies all at once. We stopped him just in time.

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