In the spirit of change, saving money and avoiding death, I decided it would be a good idea to quit smoking. A friend suggested Chantix, a “miracle drug, “that would help me quit. There’s nothing I love more than miracle drugs that will alter my behavior without my having to exert any willpower to the task at hand. Naturally Val worries, this time Daniel, too and they try to convince me not to do it. Apparently suicide is a side effect and they argue that perhaps this may not be the smartest path for me to take at this time. Wah. So I get the pills. Val promises to monitor my moods to make sure I don’t off myself, which I’m pretty sure she does indirectly when she asks “How are you feeling today?” every morning. Here is my story.
I am told that I can smoke during week 1 and so I do. But the pills make me feel nauseous and so I smoke more. My mom asks me why I’m smoking and I have to explain to her that you’re supposed to smoke. It’s in the directions. How is your brain supposed to recognize you don’t want to do something unless you do it so much that it makes you sick? Duh, mom. I set a quit date for Week 2 when I vow not to buy packs. My mood kinda changes, too.
Dosage doubles. I can’t feel a thing. Nothing bothers me. At. All. Except my friends and so I try to avoid them. But really, nothing bothers me. I am calm. I don’t really smoke a lot, maybe 3 a day. I eat a lot. My bum grows closer to my ultimate goal of Kim K. But I don’t feel like smoking. And I don’t feel like doing much else. I stare into space with nothing on my mind besides how awesome this feeling of not feeling is. I sit in Sunday Jew traffic on 18th ave for 2 hours on my way to Daniel’s house and I’m like, “eh, whatever.” I dub the pills Chalium because I feel they have the perfect mixture of anxiety reducing chemicals. I develop a strategic advertising campaign. “Chalium: Eases Anxiety. Side effects include quitting smoking.” On the flipside, my friends think I’m an uber biatch and they tell me they don’t like the new me. According to Zohra, I become an “intolerable cunt bag.” Daniel tries to divorce me. But the Chantix makes me not care. So we stay together. Then he apologizes for trying to divorce me and gives me eternal shotgun privileges.*
There are too many events and I don’t want to go to any of them. This makes me angry at Chalium because I want to have fun. But I can’t because it’s not letting me. So I rebel. And I do things I actually don’t want to do in an effort to retrain my brain. And because I don’t know how to say no and as far as I know, there is no pill for this. I end up getting sick a lot. And I notice my face getting fatter in pictures.
So I take a break from the Chalium. I promise that it’s only for one week and I’ll start again. It’s a good week. I am actually happy. Naturally. People note that my personality is back. Life is good.
I don’t want to start taking them again but I do. Which is stupid because I still don’t know how to say no. So I decide to say goodbye to Chalium for good. People notice that I’m smoking again. I tell them I’m off Chantix. They yell at too high of a volume for my personal taste that “OMG. BUT YOU”RE SMOKING AGAIN.” And I’m like, but I’m happy and they’re like “BUT YOU”RE SMOKING AGAIN” and I’m like, really? Let’s move on. And then we do because I know they’re not really disappointed. Because I know they didn’t really expect me to quit. And I couldn’t have asked for better friends.