My Weekend at Auntie Anne's, Part 6 | |
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My Weekend at Auntie Anne's (Part 6) I managed to get away with this routine for about six months. Sneaking around was getting to be a real pain, especially during the winter, and I think mom was beginning to suspect that her cigarettes were going faster than she thought they should be. Her suspicions were confirmed a week before Christmas that year. Mom was off for Christmas vacation and she had no sooner left to go do a little last minute shopping, when I made a b-line for her cigarette drawer in the kitchen and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her carton. I opened it as quickly as I could, lit one up immediately and took a really big drag. With smoke pouring from my nose, I was in the middle of my second big drag when she came back in unexpectedly. After a day and a half without one, I was so desperate for a cigarette that I failed to make sure she had actually left. The unasked question of "What do you think you're doing?" was answered by the amount of smoke in the room from my first exhale. My initial reaction had been to throw the cigarette in the sink, but my craving was so great, I automatically placed the cigarette back in my mouth and took another huge drag. Meanwhile, my mom just stood there speechless. Surprisingly, she didn't go ballistic or anything, but she did seem to me, a little disappointed. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing her eight-year old daughter filling her young lungs with cigarette smoke, she asked me how long I had been smoking and I told her about six months. She nodded her head, then walked over to me, took the cigarette from my hand and put the open pack in her purse. She then told me to go to my room, and that we'd talk about it when she got back. My face was beet-red after having been caught with that cigarette and I just knew I was going to be in a lot of trouble. Even though mom didn't yell, I knew she was mad at me for sneaking around behind her back. All sorts of thoughts were running through my head while I waited for her to come back. Punishment was the least of my worries however, as the realization that I wouldn't be getting any more cigarettes began to sink in. I loved smoking and just the thought of not being able to have another cigarette was devastating to me. About two hours later, mom came home. After putting her packages in her room, she came down the hall and into my room. She came and sat next to me on the bed and gave me a hug and kissed my forehead. She then wanted me to tell her the whole story of how I started smoking. I was really hesitant about telling her the truth because I didn't want to get Auntie Anne and Grandma in trouble, but it all happened so fast, I didn't have an effective cover story planned. Because mom loved smoking so much, I prefaced my story with my burning desire to try smoking because she made it look so wonderful. I then fibbed a little bit and told her about the weekend I spent with Auntie Anne and how I had begged and pleaded with her to let me try a cigarette until she finally relented and gave in. I told her of how Auntie Anne had taught me to inhale, about buying me my own pack of cigarettes and lighter and about how I got Grandma to let me smoke too. When I had confessed all, I pleaded with her not to be mad at Auntie Anne and Grandma, because it was me that had made them do it. She then asked me if I liked smoking and I told her that I really loved it and didn't want to stop. Hoping beyond all reason, that maybe I'd be allowed to smoke, I then related what Auntie Anne had told me about how Grandma let them smoke as little girls. Mom wasn't saying very much, but when I finished telling her how I started, she just got up and walked down the hall to her room. A few seconds later, she came back with the pack of cigarettes she had taken from me earlier, a Bic lighter and an ashtray. She tapped the pack, exposing a few cigarettes then offered the pack to me, asking if I'd care for a cigarette. Quite naturally, I hesitated momentarily and looked at her face, then she smiled and held them out to me again. This time there was no hesitation as I eagerly took the pack and pulled out a cigarette. Mom then took one for herself and lit my cigarette for the first time before lighting up her own. After taking my first drag with my mother watching, I threw my arms around her and told her how much I loved her and how much I wanted to be able to sit with her and smoke cigarettes with her. I had never felt closer to her than I did at that moment, and it's a closeness that we still enjoy to this day. She then kissed me again, told me she loved me and handed me the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. Mom went on to tell me that she would explain the situation to dad and was pretty sure he'd agree to let me smoke. Mom then laid down some ground rules that were to be strictly followed or else I would lose all smoking privileges until I was sixteen. At that point, I would have agreed to almost anything in order to be allowed to smoke. Mom went on to tell me that I would only be allowed to smoke in our house or at Grandma's. I was not to tell anyone that I was allowed to smoke, or that I even smoked at all and I was not, under any circumstances, to smoke at school ever. If someone found out that a teacher was letting their eight-year old child smoke cigarettes, it could be construed as child abuse and could result in mom losing her job. I promised that I would follow all the rules, and I meant it. Mom, I'm sure, must have called Grandma and Auntie Anne and related what had transpired. Apparently she wasn't mad at them because Christmas that year was my very best. Santa was really good to me that year, as I got a new bike, lots of new clothes and a backyard playhouse. But it wasn't until later, when we went to Grandma's house for Christmas dinner, that I got my best present ever. As was our custom, Christmas dinner was always at Grandma's house. After we all helped clean up the torn scraps of Christmas wrap and the empty boxes from under the tree, mom cooked us some breakfast. After breakfast, dad went up to get changed and mom and I did the dishes. When we were through, mom lit us both a cigarette. I really liked these times with mom. I was still pretty uncomfortable smoking in front of my dad, but with mom it was different. After she allowed me to smoke, she seemed to have changed somehow. It was either that, or I now saw her in a completely different light. Whatever the reason, she wasn't as short with me anymore, and she seemed to listen to me more and wasn't as quick to say "no" as she used to be. But maybe it was me who had changed. Maybe I had become more agreeable and wasn't so bratty anymore. All I know is that mom and I were getting along great and life around our house was a lot better. When we finished our cigarettes, mom and I went upstairs to change for Grandma's. Mom had me take a bath then she selected a new Christmas dress for me to wear along with my new shoes and matching purse. When she had finished dressing, she came in my room and fixed my hair real pretty and made sure I look like a little lady. We went downstairs, and while dad was loading our presents in the car, mom went over to her cigarette drawer and took out two packs of cigarettes, putting one in her purse then opening the other and handing it to me to put in my purse. She then asked if I had a lighter and I told her I did. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful and grown-up I felt at that moment. Here I was, an eight-year old little girl, all dressed up and carrying my own pack of cigarettes in my purse. Dad came in and said that the presents were all packed and asked if we were ready to go. We told him we were, then got in the car and headed for Grandma's. As soon as we got under way, mom lit a cigarette for dad and one for herself. Badly wanting a cigarette, but still not comfortable smoking in front of my dad, I declined mom's offer of a cigarette on the ride over to Grandma's house. I knew I would have to overcome this unreasonable feeling if I were to ever really become comfortable smoking at home with my parents permission. In what seemed like no time at all, we arrived at Grandma's and after all the presents were carried in and everyone was settled, dad played Santa and began to hand out the presents. Being the only child, I always seemed to end up with the most presents. Just when I thought I had opened my last gift, and that Christmas couldn't get any better, Grandma reached behind her chair and handed me another standard size gift box. I was thinking it was a skirt or something for school, but when I took the lid off and peeled back the tissue paper there sat two cartons of Marlboro Light 100's in the soft pack neatly taped inside the box. Everyone must have known what Grandma was going to give me, because they were all watching me intently as I opened that gift. I immediately got up and ran over to Grandma and gave her a great big hug and a kiss. They were still watching me as Auntie Anne reached behind her chair and handed me another present. Being just as creative as Grandma, and in the same size box, were taped a red leather cigarette pouch, a five-pack of Bic lighters and a beautiful ceramic ashtray. By the excitement I displayed over these last two presents, you may have thought I was given the keys to the kingdom. I gave Auntie Anne a great big hug and a kiss too. I then reached into my little purse, took out my fresh pack of cigarettes and my lighter and put them in my new red cigarette pouch and laid it on the coffee table next to Auntie Anne's. Once again, we cleaned up all the paper and boxes and carefully arranged our gifts. When we were through, mom suggested we all sit down and have a glass of wine (Pepsi for me) and a cigarette. So concerned was I about using my new cigarette pouch, I immediately opened it up and took out a cigarette. Before I could think about it, I had it in my lips and lit when I happened to glance over at dad. Noticing my sudden uneasiness, he just smiled with a gleam in his eye and told me not to be self-conscious about smoking and to just relax and enjoy it. Yes, this was certainly a Christmas to treasure forever. It is safe to say that I adapted my smoking pattern to abide by all of mom's conditions and never gave her any cause for concern. As far as anyone knew, I was the perfect picture of innocence, until my sixteenth birthday, when mom and dad gave me their permission to smoke without any restrictions. Now, many years later, I still love to sit and talk with mom and share our Marlboro Light 100's over coffee. I truly love smoking and I'll be forever grateful to Auntie Anne for introducing me to this wonderful pleasure. Well, that's my story of how I became a smoker. Hope you liked it. Ashley |
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