Confessions of a Carboholic
I am happy that my brother can think of alcohol with nothing but the utmost indifference . It has been over a year and a half since I stopped smoking (again) and I still have the occasional craving for a draught of that oh-so-soothing nicotine. Not that I don't feel better for having stopped (or not continued to start back up again); nor do I miss at all the enslavement to the drug. But. The pleasure, the desire, the self-deluding "Maybe just one" are still there. I know that I am not quite--and probably never will be--entirely free. It's a week since Ash Wednesday and ten days since my last carb fest. And, indeed, I'm feeling great. I was able to get into my "fat" jeans last night (i.e. the jeans that I bought a few years ago for wearing with long underwear, thus a size bigger than the ones I actually wore at that time; they were my regular jeans last winter and I haven't been able to get into them at all since last autumn); I am feeling en