I used to be a smoker. I started in 9th grade with my best friend (at the time). We would steal packs of Virginia Slims from her drunk mom's weekly cartons. We would walk around her neighborhood in Berea and smoke the entire pack in an hour. We made ourselves smoke. Eventually this led to a full time addiction. I started with Marlboro Lights (they were the cool fags to smoke), then eventually my taste for smokes developed and my loyalty to Marlboro jumped ship. I became a Camel girl full time. I never tried to quit. Even when I was caught at 16 by my dad at the airport (when you could still smoke in public areas) after a lovely family vaca, quitting was not something I even considered. I continued my pack a day habit until I turned 21. By that time I had quit smoking weed and putting shit up my nose and had moved on to heavy drinking. My habit turned into 2 packs a day and I was smoking Camel Wides. Then I moved to Italy. That's when the shit got outta control. I happened to live in Italia before the euro and everything was balls cheap. Guinness was $1.50-$2.00/pint, yes I gained 15 lbs. in three months, & fags were $1.00/pack and stronger. Smoking Camel Lights in Europe was like smoking Marlboro Reds without a filter.

After Italy & school, I found myself in NYC working in a nightclub paying $8 for a pack of smokes. I continued to smoke...

When we found out I was expecting the boy I quit. It was hard and I definitely struggled but one day I was just so grossed out by them that I was done. Smoking never entered my thoughts again. Until...I was in labor for 48 hours. After giving birth, something I hope to do again very soon, my mind drifted towards smoking again. I was breastfeeding so I knew I couldn't do it nor did I really want to . But somehow when I stopped breastfeeding I forced myself to smoke again. This time I went for the clove. Why? Who the f knows. I somehow convinced myself that since they smelled pretty they weren't bad for me. I only smoked about 1 fag a day so I hadn't really become the chimney I was in yesteryear.

The cloves got old quick and I stopped again. BTW, the entire pregnancy and after the Chef was secretly smoking on rooftops and lying to me about it. I was not to pleased when I recently found out that. Long story a little bit shorter, I dabbled with the smoke on & off for about 4 months. Then we had the wedding and went to St. Barth's where we both smoked our brains out. We bought cartons of the strongest French cigarettes ever and smoked all of them. By the end of the glorious week I was done and so was he. Or so I thought.

When we found out we were expecting another bambino last March, neither of us were smoking so it wasn't hard to quit. We moved back to CLE and cigarettes have been a thing of the past. Until now.

I have had this sneaking suspicion that the chef has been smoking as of late. He has been at work 15 hours a day and I barely see him. But I know what his deal has been. And last night the truth was confirmed.
Who knows how long this has been going on? Lord knows, dude feels like he has to lie to me about it. I just wish he could understand that I don't give a shit about the smoking. I mean I don't want him to get cancer or anything but really that is his own prerogative. I just want him to be honest with me when I ask him over & over if he is smoking. And he isn't. And now I'm depressed about it. Fuck.
I know that the restaurant is opening and I know that I am a megabitch sometimes, & I know that my house is a mess & the Canadian Soldiers won't leave but for chrissakes I am nine months pregnant and I don't deserve to be bullshitted no matter how stressed or busy one may be. And I don't want to become a smoker again after baby girl is born. And if the chef is smoking, the widow will start up again. Not cool.

So any of you smokers who are providing the chef with the goods, know that I know and I am out for blood. Or at least some pregnant ass kicking.

PS
Dear Chef,

I love you but seriously if you come home smelling like smoke again tonight I am cancelling our secret date and going out with my girlfriends...to a boy strip club. Nothing says class like a 38 week prego chick watching dudes get nekkid.