Strange Confessions: 3 Cigarettes, Part 1
Strange Confessions: I can count the number of cigarettes I’ve smoked on both hands.
This is not, in any way shape or form a condoning of smoking cigarettes. I find them disgusting and you should never take up this habit/addiction. There are 3 cigarettes that are memorable in mind, and these are the true Strange Confessions of the story.
My first one is about the first cigarette I smoked.
I stole one from my mom’s purse took it outside and smoked it out on the side of our house. It was a Virginia Slim, a very macho type of cancer stick, all disguised up in an innocent looking box of white and green stripes. As I stole out of the house, looking quite suspicious I’m sure, except it was night and all dark and dastardly deeds are done in the dark, it was bright enough though for me to sneak my way past the low bushes, around the corner to sit down against the fence surrounded by high vegetation and a cold paving stone on my backside. I lit up with…, oh I can’t remember that specifically. Anyway I smoked the whole thing. I don’t remember coughing or even if I inhaled completely. But, I do remember standing up. Oh Boy! That’s when it hit me. It felt like someone had stirred up my brains and was messing with my sense of balance. Was my Mom home? My Dad? My siblings? I don’t even remember. The power of that instant headache and queasiness blotted out all other memories, and oh boy, did it make me want another. Nah, just kidding. If that first foray into smoking didn’t deter me from partaking into the dark and desperate side of cancer risk, my final one did. But that is a story for another time. Don’t worry I’ll finish up this series in the next couple of days sans end of the world, which won’t happen, unfortunately. Oh, both these other stories involve the friend from the previous Strange Confession, you know the one who dated Joan Jett.