The End Of An Era

On my way home yesterday, I stopped in the "smoking lounge" in B terminal in Hartsfield-Atlanta airport. I only did it because it was on my way to my next gate. I didn't have a craving for a cigarette or anything, I just liked the fact that there was a smoke pen (as we call it at work) in the airport. So I took a seat and lit up my Djarum light (I quit Blacks when I came back from Norway...tried smoking one while in distress after Katrina...felt like my lungs were going to collapse and dropped that brand for life), and proceeded to people watch. I took note of who was in the smoke pen, how long they were there, imagining what got them started smoking in the first place. There were older people, military people, couples, mostly whites, but the range was broad.

A young mixed couple (she was white, he was Mexican) sat down next to me and asked, "Is that a clove cigarette?" I told them yes and the woman almost squealed with delight. She asked me if I'd gotten them there at the airport. I told her no, and that they're very difficult to find. I shared with her that in New Orleans & Jacksonville there are very few places you can find them, but in Atlanta you can get them at some gas stations (something I found strange in a place that doesn't sell alcohol on Sunday). She said they'd wanted some but didn't have time to look for them in Tampa. They proceeded to finish their cigarettes and went on their merry way. The thing about it, I smoke cloves because I can't stand the smell of regular cigarette smoke! I came out of that smoke pen smelling like a cigarette and I hate that, on me or someone else.

I noticed this weekend that my son is on his way to childhood obesity, courtesy of my sister's habit of eating out all the time and her affinity for processed desserts (can you say Ho-Ho's, Ding Dongs, & Entenmann's donuts?). It sickened me to see him fill a bowl with two cups of vanilla ice cream that evening after having eaten God knows how much fast food that day. I'm concerned that he's going to end up eating himself to death like the rest of my family is already doing (using food as a drug to manage emotions), but having grown up watching my father verbally abuse everyone else in my family for their eating habits, I know I have to approach this carefully so as not to destroy my son's already damaged self-image.

The idea I want convey to him is, "Eat healthy, exercise, & respect your body. It's a gift from God that He has entrusted you to take care of." I said a few things to him and then realized, he's not going to listen. He's ten. There's nothing I can say to him to get him to make better food choices and get into an exercise routine. The only thing I can do is show him. I have to show him what healthy looks like, and that means quitting smoking. It's on my list of 43 things, so I'm doing it. The reasons to quit far outweigh the reasons to continue (I'm going to deal with the gaining weight thing), but the one reason to quit matters more than all the others...my son. The last thing I want is for my son to be abusing himself in 20 years, be it with food, cigarettes, or anything else.