It was in the month of February, in this year when I first decided to quit smoking. Trinity, a fellow stripper, and most famous dancer in S. Florida wanted me to join in the rebellion for the professionalism of strippers, a noble cause.

”If you’re not part of the solution,” she admonished me, “Then, you are part of the problem.”

Trinity is a beautifully tiny dancer, she is 5’10 in her stilettos, always wears white knee high stockings, has gorgeous blonde locks, and the face of an angel. She has been 24 for the past 14 years, and still totally gets away with it. Needless to say, she is the most hated dancer, but I admire her and her pursuits wholeheartedly. I am not jealous, I am merely an admirer of her professionalism. She has her degree in writing, she has been in many movies, and makes great money. She drives around in a sporty BMW, and has like 1 million stalkers. I hate to admit being in awe of her.

So when Trinity took me under her wing, I was enthralled. I listened to every word she told me.

“Always do the unexpected,” she’d tell me, “People think strippers do drugs and smoke cigarettes and are whores. My advice to you is to always do the opposite of what they think, and put all your money away. Most girls here use money towards drugs, you need to be smart.” She swipes the cigarette from between my glossy lips, and dumps it in the ashtray.

“Shame - On You!” she barks, each word at a time in her valley girl acting kinda voice and stomps away.

Dumbfounded, I have no desire to rebel, but I take another from the pack, laugh it off and puff away. She’s relentless, though, and proposes to me a challenge:

“Don’t smoke at all tonight, and you’ll see the guys will give you a lot more money.”

So, I don’t smoke and I made a ton of money, which I chalked up to coincidence.



But the next day, I am in Walgreens, ready to buy a pack when I see the nicotine gum. I wonder, just wonder, if I really could quit. It wouldn’t be giving in to anybody, it would be saving myself from a slow suicide. I don’t buy the cigarettes. I went to work, with a mouthful of gum.

Trinity is noticeably triumphant when she sees that she actually had an impact on me. We’re in the dressing room. She’ s fluffing out her blonde locks, standing in her stilettos in front of the mirror, primping and preening as we all are. She smiles, turns to me and asks me for a piece of nicotine gum. Surprised that she’d even want some, I gave in. She’s chewing on the gum, and she finishes her primping and goes out to make her cash. I do the same.

Later, Trinity approaches me, asking me for another piece. This time, we just got back from a champagne room with the Louisiana pilots, and she and I begin chewing on the gum. I’m feeling not so well. More like, I was coughing up a lung, and feeling really hot. Oh no, don’t let me get sick.

“I love this gum,” Trinity is chewing and munching away, while reapplying her lipstick. I laugh.

“You’re gonna start smoking just to get off the gum soon,” I chided her.

She spits it out and throws it in the garbage. “NO WAY!” She acts real mad, it’s funny. Everything with her is an act, most of the times.

The next day, I got really really sick. I was sick for weeks, I couldn’t eat anything, smoke anything, nor chew any nicotine gum for that matter. No money was being made, and I was living off of hot tea, chicken soup, orange juice (which was scratchy), and I slept A LOT! I was missing work like every day. I wanted to go in, but I couldn’t. When I got better, I had forgotten about the gum, and went straight for the cigarettes. I went back to smoking at work, in my house, in my car, and didn’t care. What an interruption that flu had been!

Well, two days ago, I stopped at Walgreens for my carton again, and was drawn to the nicotine gum behind the cashier. Instead of buying the cigarettes, I bought the gum. I went home and slept until 8:30 pm after chewing 4x the amount of the recommended dose. I woke up, and realized that I had overslept, but I felt invigorated, rejuvenated, and happy. Reaching for a cigarette on the night table, I find a pack of gum instead and it strikes me.

It’s already 8:30 at night, and I have not had one cigarette today!

Ok, well, I was sleeping, but it was something. I did not smoke that night, the next day or yet today. I love the gum. This morning, I took a jog on the beach, to the pier and back, and was able to run a lot more without feeling tired. So, today is day 3 with no cigarettes. I am ready now to look better, smell better, and feel better.

Who’s ready to support me in my crusade?