"Kellie, you smoke, don't you?" came the cry from across the office. "Erm, yes," I replied rather sheepishly. You see, long gone are the days when almost everyone I knew smoked – especially the journalists. Nowadays, I think people would be less horrified if I said I kicked puppies or stole sweets from children.
"Do you fancy going to a stop smoking clinic?" I thought about it for a few seconds. "Oh, OK, why not?" I didn't bother to ask what it involved, I just thought it seemed like a good idea. My boyfriend is an ex-smoker, and to be fair, he is very tolerant of my smoking, but I know he wants me to quit and this seems like a good enough time to stop. After all, the smoking ban has pretty much ruined my nights out as a smoker, unless I want to sit outside in the rain.
"So what exactly does it entail?" I asked a little later on. "Well its a combination of neuro-linguistic programming, thought field therapy, as well as tapping and hypnotism."
Right then.
At this point I was feeling slighty worried. Would they have probes stuck to my head, pumping in subversive messages about the evils of nicotine? Would they have me running around, clucking like a chicken in a hypnotic trance? Or would I just give up smoking through the amazing power of tap dancing? It was all a little too much. Plus, what if I couldn't do it? Could I face my colleagues the next day as a failed quitter?
I sat for a few minutes taking it all in, and then it came to me... well at least I'm trying something. I'm walking the walk instead of just talking the talk. I've wanted to quit for a while now, but I always came up with the same old excuses: it's not the right time; I'm too stressed at the moment; I'm not ready to quit; I don't want to put on weight etc. All us smokers are guilty of using one, if not all, of these excuses at some point.
So, off I go on Monday morning to Harley Street for my "session". I'm feeling a little bit nervous, but also excited too. And I'm going to be honest with you – I will probably smoke myself into a stupor this weekend as one last hurrah. But please don't hate me for it. I'll let you know how I get on next week...
