It's Just Pretend.

Another problem preventing me from quitting entirely is the imaginary glamor of it all.  When I am smoking, I don't watch myself, so I can imagine myself being the very glamorous pretend me. It's only pretend, and it may be deranged, but it's fun for me.  Until I go to bed and my legs start aching and I start worrying that it's a blood clot and that I'll have a midnight stroke, or when my hands go numb and I start picturing the shrively old me with skin like tissue paper and packing my oxygen tank around with me, that I realize how truly unglamorous smoking really is. 

I have been feeling very unglamorous since I quit, and I like to be pretend glamorous, which has led to me having a number of...shall we say...relapses.  While I am relapsing (two packs worth in a week) I do feel very 1960's fantastic while my little smoking binge is ongoing.  The post-binge anxiety, however, is reaching a fever pitch.  Which, I guess is good since the goal is to stop smoking altogether.  So my new goal now is to make it 10 days with no relapses.  I also need to find a new way to pretend like there is some glamor in my world.  I'd go back to vintage clothes, but I'd have to lose about 4 inches off my waist.  Apparently no one in the 60's ate.  They just SMOKED and drank cocktails.