Kitobni o'qish: «How did I quit smoking»

Quitting Smoking is easy – I've personally done it hundreds of times (Mark Twain)

First Puff

On that summer day, half a century ago, I was six years old. I noticed how Mike, my classmate and neighbor, sneaked around the corner of the five-story building, to its rear side without entrances. Our young working-class town was then being intensely build up and growing. Our newly build five-story building for seventy five apartments stood on the very outskirts. Behind it was only almost pristine field with wild grass up to the waist. It was clear that Mike had gone there out of sight with some secret intention. Out of curiosity, I sneaked behind him. When I popped up from around the corner, Mike was leaning back against the wall, about ten meters from me. He glared at me angrily. As I approached, he muttered: «What’s the matter?" Then, he took his hand out from behind his back and handed me a smoking cigarette butt: "Here, take a drag!" I hesitated for a moment, as I had never liked the idea of smoking, because it was widely considered a ‘crime’ for children and I knew that it was harmful to health. Nevertheless, out of curiosity, I decided to try it once, just to learn what it is really like. I was sure it must be very pleasant, since so many adults did smoke despite health harm. I did not have the slightest idea how to smoke and did not know that the puff should be sucked first into mouth, and only then, diluted with fresh air from semi-open mouth, to lungs. I took the butt proffered to me, put it in my mouth, and breathed through it the hot smoke directly inside. Straight away I felt as though a fire had burned my lungs. I could feel their shape, size and location by the boundaries of the pain. I was stunned for a moment by surprise, disappointment and pain. Then tears splashed from my eyes and I burst into a loud, prolonged cough. Mike got worried that my coughing would attract someone's malapropos attention. "Uh-uh, you don’t even know how to smoke," Mike said irritably and pulled at my sleeve away from there.

Such a negative first experience discouraged me for long from attempting to smoke again. I thought forever. When most of my teenage friends started bragging about their smoking, especially in companies, I firmly refused then. In the USSR, the vast majority of men smoked (contrary to women). Therefore, when I reached the age of 15, I began to periodically hear from my peers phrases like ‘you are not a man, since you do not smoke’ and catch half-contemptuous glances at myself. By that time almost all my peers around already were smoking. In the courtyard at the school by that time, several stable companies of smokers had formed. They regularly used to show themselves off with a smoking cigarette. I was not firmly attached to any of such groups and along with other several teenagers we maintained a certain ‘independence’. So, I and several other guys could never start smoking, but that would have some obvious repercussions to us. Firstly we would be permanently excluded from many teenage ‘adventures’ and in addition would be dubbed as a ‘mama's boys’ (it would be especially applicable to me, given the fact that I was raised by a single mother). Such prospect did not suit me and I decided on rare occasions to force myself to smoke a cigarette. I deliberately did this only with a large crowd of peers, so that with one act of smoking could be demonstrated to as many my peers, as possible. About half of my friends quickly became addicted to nicotine and complained when there were no cigarettes around. I didn’t quite believe them for a long time, suspecting that they were just maintaining their ‘manhood’ that way. For me, due to my seldom smoking, the craving for nicotine did not develop for long. I played sports, attended boxing training group, and felt to sympathy for tobacco at all.