Day one of giving up smoking. I'm feeling kind of rattled, out of sorts, like my head is somewhere else, soon to return. I think it does actually get easier the more times you try to give up. This doesn't feel impossible, just annoying. It's like I'm waiting for something to happen.

All day at work I was in a fog, a daze. I tried to avoid most people. I tried to work quietly.

I feel shitty and nasty and quiet and tired and bitchy and crap, all at the same time.

I headed off to the pub for a bevvy with my mixed salad. I've got to get my diet under control, straight off. I don't want to end up like one of them fatty's in trackies that I see in the mall; toothless losers who've given up. I don't want to look like one of them.

I was in the lift, a bit pissed after lunch - well, what else does one do when one is spinning from cigarette withdrawal - and, other then me, it was an all girl lift. It was hot today, kind of humid hot and, I tell you what, not something I usually come across, but one of those girls need to wash it! Ewww! I started to giggle, I was mindless, (read tipsy) as I truly wanted to say something. I was delirious from nicotine depletion. My guard was down and my angst was up. They all looked at me as though I was weird, as I eyed them one by one. Was it the tall, red-head, the buxom blond, or the midget in the nylon cardy? Was it the rat-face receptionist from the other law firm? Or the pretty girl with the nice smile? It couldn't have been the old cleaner because hers would be dry, like the Sahara, smoothed over like Barbie. I thought such things were just misogynistic rants and untrue, but... ewww! Maybe it's just my sense of smell returning already? Nah! Filthy bitch! Slurp, slurp! Mother of Pearl.

Let's hope my sense of taste doesn't do anything special, I don't want to want any more food than I do. No food replacements, not even for a day. Diet and exercise, here I come. Fatty fucking piglettdom here we DON'T come! Of course, you wouldn't read about it, my bike has a flat.

Anyway, I'm retreating to bed. I'm taking my lap-top to the cot. Lay my head down. The lack of nicotine makes me sleepy, tired, lethargic, horrid, not nice to be near. This is full on, draining, tiring, debilitating, but it only lasts a week, max. (he says nervously) This is the truly awful bit, after which it can only get better.

Wish me luck.