If It’s Good, More is Better.
Lest the world believe that I did nothing but drink after college, I had one other vice that was equally serious, and equally life-threatening. And since no one in Florida seemed to have any cocaine, at least not at my house, I kept my other addiction pumping full-force, 24/7: I smoked cigarettes.
And I smoked cigarettes constantly.
When I’d started smoking, I did it occasionally, usually while drinking, and I smoked Salems. This is what my boyfriend smoked so I thought that was what I should smoke.
Then I discovered Salem Lights. These seemed more in line with my femininity. Everything I was doing was “light” at the time. I ate “light” foods and drank “skim” milk and “Diet” Coke. So Salem Lights seemed to be just the thing.
And I always smoked menthol, because it was like peppermint candy.
Later I discovered Salem Light 100s, which were a little bit longer. For the same price, my cigarettes would last longer, so I smoked those.
Then one day, I arrived at the gas station to discover a display box near the cashier. There was a picture of a woman on the box, and the brand name was “Virginia Slims” which sounded like a very thin woman. I picked up a pack of Virginia Slims Menthol Light 100s and put Salems in the rearview mirror.
It took a minute to adjust to the new brand, but I felt cooler asking for cigarettes that were made specifically for me.
The day I discovered Virginia Slims 120s was truly providential. The 120s were ridiculously long – they looked nearly twice the size of a standard cigarette – and for me, that mattered.
The marketing for Virginia Slims 120s implied that smoking these meant I would be elegant and beautiful. The antithesis of the Marlboro man, who had a rugged demeanor and wore a cowboy hat, a Virginia Slims 120 smoker wore an elegant gown and flirted, head thrown back and laughing, with every millionaire at the proverbial dinner party.
For me, there was no gown, and I have never wanted to attend a dinner party.
I was all about quantity. My motto in life: If it’s good, more is better. What I wanted was a cigarette that was going to last a long, long time. And originally, I believed I would be holding that cigarette in my hand most of the time, just looking cool.
In reality, I smoked every centimeter of that cigarette, all the way down to the filter, every time.
Larry (who smoked Winstons and wouldn’t touch menthol) sometimes put his cigarette down. He’d set it carefully in an ashtray, still burning, so he could do something else, like make a sandwich. I saw other people put their cigarettes down once in awhile, too.
I didn’t understand this. I never, ever put my cigarette down unless it was a dire emergency – like, my beer tipped over or I fell off my bar stool. Otherwise the cigarette stayed in my hand and I sucked on it like a baby with a pacifier.
Before I ever got sober, I was smoking three packs of Virginia Slims 120s every single day. That’s 60 cigarettes a day, more than 400 cigarettes a week, well over 1,500 cigarettes a month. And I never, ever put my cigarette down. For years.
I believe my family’s prayers are the only reason I am still alive. Otherwise, it makes no sense at all.