Virgins Go Pop

Not that I'm complaining but when I was awoken by the sound of the hoover this morning (extrodinary, since I live with two guys who have yet to show signs they know what a hoover does) I went out to investigate and saw them hoovering together.

Because that's how many men it takes to hoover the living room; one to push it around and the other to follow him around, holding the cord.

The look of pride on their faces though, bless their hearts.

I'm 23 now and have been smoking since I was (maybe) 14. I've tried to give up before using gum or the inhalator, once I even boldly tried it cold turkey; needless to say I failed miserably every time, turning into a raging bitch before binge smoking myself into sickness.

This time I was pretty serious about not being the smoker anymore; I want better skin, more money and less of that embarrassing feeling I get from having to leave a table after a main course for a cigarette before dessert.

The last reason is particularly important this time as I am attending a message board meet up in London and I didn't want to be The Smoker. That would just make me look like a loser infront of my internet friends, a devastating thing.

I started by attending a meeting with the smoking counsellor at my surgery; first, I had to have the daunting, um, carbon monoxide measuring apparatus test. So I blew into this cardboard tube thing that made a noise like a kazoo, had a good giggle about the kazoo noise, and waited for the "scare me straight" results. The reading said I had 3% less oxygen in my blood than I needed! And some other reading said I had 18 carbon monoxide in my system!

I was sorely disappointed, "Well, that's not that bad, is it?" and the counsellor was all, "...Not really."

This didn't deter me, I said I'd like to try patches, because they are 24 hours of nicotine at a time, and it's waking up without the nicotine that really freaks me out and makes me run to the shops.

I'm now 3 days clean! I never thought I could get this far, I always said to myself that if I managed 3 days then I knew that I could quit for good.

I really am the type of smoker who gets terrified and furious without cigarettes, other forms of NRT just made me think "I'd rather have a cigarette" but this time the patches have eliminated the fear and my determination has done the rest. I feel really happy. I think this also has something to do with the high dosage on I'm on (21mg) making me quite hyperactive (and giving me some insane and intense dreams, by the way; Lewis Carroll couldn't even compete) but either way, I feel really pumped.

And smug. Totally smug.

After weeks of asking politely I thoroughly lost my temper and wrote an angry letter to my housemate. In short my main complaints are:

• I'm tired of scrubbing cat poo and wee off the carpet. Not my cat, not my problem. Someone has to do it, though.
• Good God, be a grown up and just clean up after yourself as you go. Today I opened the microwave to be hit by this powerful stink. To my horror there was a plate festering with mould. Jesus.
• Stop stealing my stuff. Just stop. I hate you.

Of course my letter was more puffed out (I think eventually I rambled for four entire pages, feel the rage) and ended with a typical kind of snivelling whiney vibe.

He's been avoiding me for days now, I didn't think I was so mad intimidating, clearly I'm badass.

Also, I started my week with a cervical cancer screening examination at 8am. Surely from here the only way is up!

-A.