Whatever. I will now drink to Francesca Andrea.
I was just watching that episode of How I met Your Mother where we find out that they all smoked. It cracked me up. But it hit so close to home that I found myself twittering about this as I tried to explain to my non-smoking roommate why I laughed at this. After all, I don't laugh at the thought of someone tying a rope around their neck or putting a pistol in their mouth.
Yes, I acknowledge that smoking kills. And it will probably kill me too.
The day I smoked my first cigarette at the tender age of 12 I nearly fell out the window. One would think I would have learned my lesson but no. I picked it up again at 14 while living in England and never looked back.
I was a bad example to my brothers and a bad example to my friends. But like that box of English cigarettes, I always said-as if it made a difference-smoking kills. I still say that. And I don't smoke so much that it actually bothers anyone but still, I smoke and I like it.
Smoking I have made friends. Smoking I have made business deals. Smoking I have gotten to know people I otherwise wouldn't have. And even if later on I have to pay with a lung, so far it's been worth it.
I've been asked if I'll ever quit and for me this is a no-brainer: Of course I will- should I ever get pregnant. Yet, after a day of trying to protect my fertility and having things inserted in my body that I'd rather not discuss, the only thing I can think of doing is have glass of wine and smoke a ciggie...why? because at the end of the day I have nothing to protect. Francesca Andrea exists. The world is not better than it was yesterday, and well, this is one of the few things in life I can control...
So I smoke.