Kathy's Diary, Part 2

From QEWK94A@prodigy.com Thu Mar 14 21:22:10 1996
Date: Wed, 13 Mar 1996 21:07:29 EST
From: QEWK94A@prodigy.com (MR G ROZIC)
Subject: 2nd Installment of Kathy's Diary

KATHY'S DIARY
© Aplomb Press. 1996. All rights reserved.

After I smoked my first Marlboro, I overanalyzed my actions. I felt 
guilty. I had always worked very hard to take care of myself. In fact,
 I felt like I did during the last holiday season, after I pigged out 
on cheesecake and other goodies. 

I didn't realize it at the time, but obsessive-compulsive behavior 
had always been a part of me. I wasn't any different than someone who 
repeatedly washed their hands.

To plead my pathetic case, after I smoked that cigarette, I ran into 
the bathroom. I gargled on mouthwash and scrubbed my hands dry. Then, 
I hopped on my exercise bike. Somehow, I thought that a half hour on 
the bike would exercise the "demonic" smoke out of my lungs! 

I threw away the cigarettes, cleaned up the ashtray and tried to 
forget about my misdeed. I did say "try" to forget. I just couldn't. 
I really did enjoy that cigarette. 

A few weeks later, I can remember going to the hospital cafeteria 
with Kia, a black nurse who worked with me in the orthopedic ward. 
Basically, we were typical work friends. We would go to lunch 
together and complain about the arrogant doctors and uncooperative 
patients. Kia, who was 24, had chocolate skin, a few too many pounds 
on her frame and short black hair. She was pretty, albeit a little 
heavy. 

Somehow, on that particular day, our conversation turned to smoking. 
She wanted to quit her pack and a half a day habit, but she needed 
support. Kia sought the help of a nonsmoker. She turned to me. 

I was in an awkward situation. I wanted to help her, but I had my 
doubts. After all, I didn't want to be a hypocrite. 

We stepped outside. Naturally, it was quite chilly. Kia pulled out a 
Salem. (I found myself paying more and more attention to the brand 
somebody smoked.) The wind blew out her lighter more than once. 
Finally, she took a deep puff of the Salem, exhaled and the smoke 
came rushing at my face. 

Kia apologized. There was a time when I would have backed away. I 
stood there, soaking in mouthful after mouthful of the sweet menthol 
tobacco. The Salem had a very pleasant aroma. I can't believe I'm 
saying that! 

She chainsmoked two Salems. The burst of nicotine brought Kia great 
joy. I didn't have the heart to help her quit. You know what? The 
topic of quitting never came up again. 

That evening, I stopped off at the grocery store for some odds and 
ends. The store has a big display of cigarettes near the cash 
registers. I found myself drawn to the many different packs. Until 
then, I never realized how many brands there were on the market! 

My eyes became glued on the Marlboro section. So many choices, what 
is a girl to do! The reds, lights, mediums... Finally, I found my 
match. A shiny gold box of Marlboro 100s. 
On impulse, I grabbed the box. I felt like a kid stealing from a 
candy store. I didn't want anybody to see me buying cigarettes. God, 
I felt stupid. 

I sped home. Along the way, I debated my actions. Part of me was 
curious. Part of me felt out of control. Still, another part of me 
felt very much in control. It was almost a realization of a sixth 
sense. I'll expand on that a later time. 

The curtains were drawn. The door was locked. Nobody was watching me. 
I probably went through more trouble to smoke a cigarette than 
somebody snorting lines of cocaine! But you must understand. Smoking, 
in my family and among most of my friends, was very taboo. To them, 
smoking was a very disgusting habit. Their influence was strong. 

I pulled out the ashtray from the drawer and placed it on the coffee 
table. I had watched Pam enough times to know how to open a fresh 
pack of Marlboros. Snap. The cellophane band around the pack went 
first. Pop. I flipped open the box top and pulled out the shiny gold 
foil cover. Twenty Marlboros stood at attention. Did I mention the 
crackle? Oh, that was yet to come. 

My first inclination was to hold up the gold box to my nose. I took a 
whiff. Don't ask me why. I was curious. I wanted to know how my 
cigarettes smelled in their unlit state. I chuckled, "They smell like 
raisins." 

Then, as I did before, I toyed with the box. I looked at it. And it 
seemed to look back at me! My thumb and my forefinger formed a union 
around one of the Marlboros and I pulled the cigarette out of the box.
 All kinds of thoughts raced through my head. Should I or shouldn't I?
 Was I in control or was the cigarette in control of me? 

I reflected upon my life for a moment. Until that point, I had led a 
relatively safe existence. I was the type of woman who exercised 
regularly, ate all the right foods and maybe drank champagne on New 
Year's Eve. Despite all my efforts to lead a clean life, I was 
miserable. Stress from work, family and relationships was taking a 
toll on me. I needed a release. 

I placed the cigarette to my lips. My hand actually trembled. Flick. 
I let the burning Marlboro hang from my lips. More so than actual 
puffing, I can remember taking in deep breaths of the smoke rising 
from the lit end. My nostrils burned, but I wanted more. I suppose 
you could call it my first experience inhaling, but not really.

More and more smoke clung to the air. I was surrounded by a haze. The 
Marlboro continued to burn, but I soon realized the side effects of 
leaving a cigarette in your mouth too long. For one, smoke started 
reeling back toward my eyes. I winced in pain. Also, ashes were 
falling all over the place. I took a small puff, exhaled and pulled 
the cigarette out of my mouth. 

Now that I think about it, I sat there in a trancelike state. I held 
the burning cigarette out in front of my nose. Again, rather than 
puffing, I mostly let it burn down to the filter. Almost immediately, 
I lit another Marlboro. I didn't want the aroma of the tobacco to 
leave the room. 

At one point, I lit three cigarettes and let them smolder in the 
ashtray in front of me. That was in addition to the one I was smoking.
 Am I nuts or what?! Wasting three cigarettes is a crime. 

However, I received the effect I needed. I felt so calm and peaceful. 
A smell that I once found repugnant was becoming a delight. To make 
me appreciate it even more, I retreated to the bathroom for a moment 
and returned to my living room. Clouds of smoke hung over my little 
head. I felt like dancing. Instead, I reached for another cigarette! 


That evening, I might have taken a dozen puffs -- maximum. None were 
very deep. Certainly, I didn't really inhale. 

The next morning, reality slapped me in the face. My hair and skin 
smelled like tobacco. I had to be at work in an hour. Most people 
would have reached for a cigarette to calm down, but not little old 
self-conscious me. I didn't want my co-workers to know that their 
Kathy wanted a cigarette. So, I jumped into the shower and scrubbed 
off the previous night's delight. 

Half the pack rested in the ashtray. It looked so disgusting. I mean, 
the sight of those butts really grossed me out. All the reservations 
about my actions crept back into my mind. I tossed out the ashtray 
and the cigarettes and vowed never to smoke again. 

As I learned, had that been a marriage vow, I would have ended up 
divorced! 

Kathy's Diary goes on a one issue hiatus. Coming in two issues: 
A smoking binge almost brings Kathy to the point of unconsciousness!

BACKGROUND
"Kathy's Diary" is a regular feature of Lit magazine, a bi-monthly 
digest in celebration of the female smoker. The series follows the 
path of a former nonsmoker's transition to smoker. Lit also contains 
erotic fiction, ORIGINAL photos and smoking related features -- all 
in celebration of the female smoker.

ORDERING INFO
To order the March 1996 issue of Lit, send $5.00 (cash or check or 
money order) to:
Aplomb Press, 399 Bagley Road, Suite 121, Cleveland, OH 44017
**MAKE CHECKS/MONEY ORDERS PAYABLE TO: APLOMB PRESS**

SUBSCRIPTIONS
A one-year subscription (6 issues) to Lit is available for $30.00. 

IMPORTANT
Lit is ONLY available to adults over the age of 18. You must submit a 
signed age statement with your order. Also, readers are responsible 
for keeping Lit away from minors.

DISCRETION ASSURED
Lit is mailed in a brown security envelope, which does NOT contain 
any references to smoking or this publication. Aplomb Press does NOT 
sell names of readers or subscribers to marketing companies or 
mailorder houses.

E-MAIL
Send questions or comments to: aplomb prs@aol.com OR qewk94a@prodigy.
com

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