One of the Girls

ONE OF THE GIRLS


   This is my story, like all others on this site it's about how I started 
smoking. The only difference is this is my real story and not some fantasy. 
I realize that there is an element out there that like to read about this 
stuff. I can not judge I am part of the element that loves to smoke. So this 
is my story and I hope that you enjoy reading it.

   My name is Jennifer but everyone has always called me Jenny.  My father 
left us when I was about 3 and I never had any brothers and sisters. I was 9 
years old when I first started smoking. It was me and mom and we lived in 
the suburbs of Toronto in a nice house. Mom got a huge settlement from drunk 
driving incident and hadn't worked in years. She just stayed at home and was 
a little golf socialite down at the course by our house. I was out of school 
for the summer and was spending allot of time around the house. I never had 
any real friends during the summer, and the ones I did where usually hauled 
away to summer camps or long family vacations. I would just play with my 
Barbie's, and follow mom on her endless shopping trips and days on the 
course.
   It was a particularly rainy week and we spent most of our time at home. 
Mom watching soaps and chit chatting on the phone, me playing in my room or 
trying to watch TV with her and understand what was going on. Mom smoked, 
mom smoked allot. She smoked Matinee 100mm but at the time all I new was 
that they were all white and allot longer than my mom's friends. All my 
moms' friends smoked and when your parade along with a bunch of old ladies 
with no friends you take notice to everything. I never talked about it with 
her, she thought that kids should not be smoking. I would always here of a 
cousin of mine who had got caught. My mom would say something along the 
lines of "that kid is uncontrollable, smoking at that age". She had no right 
to say anything, I later found out she started when she was 12 back in 
Ireland. She had turned from poor girl in a large family to an uptight 
middle class socialite; she always compared her self as a mother to all the 
neighbours.
    I started getting really interested in smoking during a luncheonette my 
mom had with her friends that she dragged me along for instead of hiring a 
baby sitter. They were all smoking and talking about everything. Magazines, 
boys that worked at the golf course and other friends of my moms. They were 
all smiles and looked like they enjoyed it very much. Even when we were 
eating my mom had a cigarette burning away. The smell had never bothered me 
much, even though the woman made no attempt to blow the smoke opposite my 
direction. It looked so fun and cool. They would hold their cigarettes like 
it belonged in their hand and blow the smoke out so naturally. I had to try 
it, but I knew my moms stand on the whole thing.
    She sat at her favourite chair; it was her favourite because of the 
perfect location of the table next to it where she could put her ashtray. I 
never say her with out a cigarette for long, sitting smoking. I sat on the 
coach staring at her smoking as she watched the TV. I would ask her question 
so I would have an excuse to look at her as she smoked. I could see she was 
getting annoyed with my badgering so I went into the kitchen to work on some 
crafty things. A painting I think. The table was set perfect so I could see 
her from a side view and the TV was faced just right so she wouldn't catch 
onto the fact that I was absolutely enthralled with her smoking. I watched 
and studied, she would bring the long cigarette up to her mouth and it would 
go red at the end then she would let it go and blow out a stream of smoke 
that would soon collect with the smoke from the burning cigarette. I went 
almost crazy trying to think of a way I could ask her just right so she 
would let me try it. I don't remember what I came up with but Imp sure it 
was pretty silly. I would have to find another way.
    I didn't know it but that night would start something that has changed 
my life. I don't know when I went to bed  but exact times are not really 
important. Mom usually stayed up about an hour after watching TV. I could 
here it downstairs and I was usually awake anyway listening in or playing 
quietly in my room. I couldn't sleep the image of smoking and how I could 
accomplish my goal kept me up in one of those crazy nights of tossing and 
turning. It was really early in the morning and when I couldn't sleep like 
this before I would just go downstairs and watch TV until I passed out. Mom 
didn't mind as long as I kept it down. It was still dark out when I went 
downstairs. I plopped down on the coach and stated watching some old movie 
that was in black and white. I got up to get a drink of water and I noticed 
it. Moms cigarettes sitting on the counter next to her favourite glass 
ashtray. I knew what I was going to do before I even thought about it. The 
pack sitting there with my moms pink lighter on top taunting me. I must have 
stood there for about 15 minutes just sitting there staring at the sight, 
thinking it over and wondering if I would get caught. I finally lifted the 
box open to see how many in where there and weather she would notice. The 
pack was filled just right that I thought I would get away with it. I 
grabbed the pack with the lighter on top and made carefully notice of 
exactly where it was so I could put it back. I made a second trip for the 
heavy glass ashtray. I set it with both hands on the table by my mom's 
favourite chair. I sat down in her usual spot and turned down the TV even 
quieter. I sat there again staring at the pack and the ashtray thinking it 
over. I finally opened the pack and slowly and very quietly pulled one of 
her long cigarettes out. Ever sound I thought would seal my fait. I held it 
in my mouth for a minute then finally reached for the lighter. I waited for 
the furnace to kick in and just as it did I started it up. I stared at the 
flame for a brief second then brought it to the cigarette in my mouth. I let 
it go and quickly pulled the cigarette out of my mouth to inspect the 
results. It didn't start, I paused for a minute then it came to me. I say 
once on a movie a guy start a cigar; he puffed to get it lit. I fumbled with 
the lighter again and brought the flame to the cigarette without hesitation. 
I puffed away and on the 3 puff noticed the room get a little brighter and 
smoke come from my mouth when I blew out. I put the lighter down and 
inspected the cigarette. It worked. I quickly put it back and watched as the 
smoke rised from the end. I was ecstatic. I sucked on it a couple of times 
and let the smoke leave my mouth slowly. I was lost stunned. I was smoking, 
just like my mom and her friends. I was smoking. I tried a couple of times 
to blow the smoke like my mom does but it didn't work to well, there wasn't 
much coming out of my mouth and when I blew it wasn't going far. I thought I 
had found a solution. I started sucking and I sucked as much as possible, it 
was by accident that I inhaled. I blew it out and started to cough, I 
covered my mouth quickly. It tickled my throat and I have to admit the taste 
was awful. I don't know why but I did it again. My tongue was starting to 
feel weird so I took one last puff and put my first cigarette out. I quickly 
went into fear moad. I took the ashtray back followed by my mom's pack and 
her lighter. I placed everything exactly how it was before. I ran back into 
the TV room and started to wave the smoke around uncase my mom did come down 
stairs. I grabbed the but out of the ashtray and threw it in the toilet. I 
sat there on the toilet seat hiding and thinking about what I had just done, 
how wonderful it was. I knew I had to get rid of the but (I cant believe I 
used to think my mom would notice), and I could smell the smoke on me and 
taste my own bad breath. What if mom came down right now I would be dead. I 
flushed the toilet while I franticly brushed my teeth, I knew she would hear 
it. Then jumped in the shower. I sprayed my nighty with hairspray and threw 
it at the bottom of my hamper.
     I went back to bed and tried to sleep hoping my mom didn't here. In the 
morning I was hesitant to come downstairs because I knew my mom was up and I 
feared she had bust me. I crept slowly down the stairs. She was sitting at 
the table and was smoking as she read the paper, I couldn't believe that I 
had done the same just hours ago I smiled a little. My mom asked me why I 
took a shower, which of course I denied. " I heard you honey, did you have 
an accident last night". I replied no but she made me wash my sheets anyway. 
I didn't care I had gotten away with murder. She didn't have a clue. It was 
hard to watch her all day smoking. My adventure that night had done little 
to squall my lust to try again. I followed her around like glue dreaming 
that it was I smoking. This was only the beginning