Your first cigarette
To be honest, inhaling the fumes from some burning leaves isn't the most natural thing in the world.
Tell us about the first time. Where, when, and who were you trying to show off to?
Or, if you've never tried a cigarette, tell us something interesting on the subject of smoking.
Personally, I've never ever smoked a cigarette. Lung damage from pneumonia put me off.
( , Wed 19 Mar 2008, 18:49)
To be honest, inhaling the fumes from some burning leaves isn't the most natural thing in the world.
Tell us about the first time. Where, when, and who were you trying to show off to?
Or, if you've never tried a cigarette, tell us something interesting on the subject of smoking.
Personally, I've never ever smoked a cigarette. Lung damage from pneumonia put me off.
( , Wed 19 Mar 2008, 18:49)
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I really did take up smoking to be cool.
I went to a girls' school between the ages of 11 to 16. Funnily enough, I didn't realise I fancied women till after this period of my life, but that's another story entirely. I just firmly believe that gratuitous lesbian references spice up something otherwise mundane something chronic. Ah, lesbians...
Where was I? Ah yes, my first cigarette. It was my first week of sixth form college, and after finally getting over the excitement of Being Educated With Boys and Getting To Wear My Own Clothes, I noticed something.
All the cool kids hung out in the smoking area.
My best friend (random lesbian subplot: she was the one in my story for the "Intense Friendships" QOTW answer many moons ago, that luscious-lipped lovely with vast heaving bosoms) decided we had to join them. We had to become them. So she bought ten Silk Cut, and we scooted over to The Concrete Car Park Behind The Refectory.
We fannied about (alas, this is not a lesbian reference)trying to light the damn thing; I finally remembered that one had to inhale while lighting for it to, you know, work.
The cigarette made its way from her pouting lips to my hand. I slowly raised it to my lips, fully conscious that I was doing something that was Very Bad For Me and Somewhat Rebellious. Would I cough? Would I vomit? Would my face instantly shrivel into that cat's arse that middle-aged female smokers tend to have?
It was alright actually. Tasted OK in my mouth--at this point in time, I had no point of comparison, only later did I learn that Silk Cuts taste like slightly stale farts. No Grange Hill style coughing fits.
A week later I discovered how to inhale smoke, and I was greeted with that first rapturous head rush. It was like a choir of angels: my knees trembled like an orgasm and my head was full of joy.
Did the strategy work? Hell yeah. I'm still friends with the people we met in the smoking area. We all still smoke.
Fun fact: I am a qualified NHS Smoking Cessation Advisor.
( , Thu 20 Mar 2008, 0:05, Reply)
I went to a girls' school between the ages of 11 to 16. Funnily enough, I didn't realise I fancied women till after this period of my life, but that's another story entirely. I just firmly believe that gratuitous lesbian references spice up something otherwise mundane something chronic. Ah, lesbians...
Where was I? Ah yes, my first cigarette. It was my first week of sixth form college, and after finally getting over the excitement of Being Educated With Boys and Getting To Wear My Own Clothes, I noticed something.
All the cool kids hung out in the smoking area.
My best friend (random lesbian subplot: she was the one in my story for the "Intense Friendships" QOTW answer many moons ago, that luscious-lipped lovely with vast heaving bosoms) decided we had to join them. We had to become them. So she bought ten Silk Cut, and we scooted over to The Concrete Car Park Behind The Refectory.
We fannied about (alas, this is not a lesbian reference)trying to light the damn thing; I finally remembered that one had to inhale while lighting for it to, you know, work.
The cigarette made its way from her pouting lips to my hand. I slowly raised it to my lips, fully conscious that I was doing something that was Very Bad For Me and Somewhat Rebellious. Would I cough? Would I vomit? Would my face instantly shrivel into that cat's arse that middle-aged female smokers tend to have?
It was alright actually. Tasted OK in my mouth--at this point in time, I had no point of comparison, only later did I learn that Silk Cuts taste like slightly stale farts. No Grange Hill style coughing fits.
A week later I discovered how to inhale smoke, and I was greeted with that first rapturous head rush. It was like a choir of angels: my knees trembled like an orgasm and my head was full of joy.
Did the strategy work? Hell yeah. I'm still friends with the people we met in the smoking area. We all still smoke.
Fun fact: I am a qualified NHS Smoking Cessation Advisor.
( , Thu 20 Mar 2008, 0:05, Reply)
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