I did not begin smoking until I was twenty-one  years old, a sophomore in collage..   There was only one class in my university where the students were allowed to smoke and that was the creative writing class.  And it seemed that everyone in that class smoked but me so I decided to conform even though I  considered myself a nonconformist in dress, lifestyle and creativity.

It wasn’t long before I  was a chain smoker going through more than one  pack of cigarettes a day.  When I published my first book How to Survive as a Freelance writer,an artist friend did a cartoon-type drawing of me for the cover.  She had me

smoking one cigarette while I had two others burning in an ashtray next to my  typewriter.

I am five feet five and weighed 110 pounds.  Whenever I gained a few pounds I would go on a terrible fast of black coffee and cigarettes for a day or two  until I was back to my precious `110 pounds.

I was still smoking when I met my husband.   He was always begging me to stop smoking but I insisted it was my right and I continued.  My beautiful long brown hair smelled of smoke even after a shampoo and all my clothes smelled of smoke no matter how much perfume I used.

When I got pregnant, I automatically stopped smoking because although I still wanted a cigarette as soon as I lit one I got violently sick at my stomach.  I nursed my baby and did not start smoking again until he was ten months old when I became ill and was hospitalized and began to smoke once more out of bordom.

At home once more, I continued to smoke.  My husband would say, “I don’t think it’s good for the baby to be around  smoke.”  But I could not bring myself to stop.

When our son, Raphael was three years old, he began saying, “Please put it out and make me happy,” each time I would light up.  Although  psychologically this made me want to stop,  it made it impossible for me to enjoy the cigarette and made me want to smoke even more.

In those days I was not aware of the damage that smoke could do to my child or even to me.  But I knew I wanted to stop and make my son happy.  So I tried getting rid of all my cigarettes and eating a candy bar every time I wanted a cigarette.  I didn’t really miss the smokes that much but I kept gaining weight and one day I got on the scale and saw I  weighed 130 pounds.

So I bought a pack of cigarettes and decided to smoke until I was back to 110 and then I would find another way to quit without eating extra fattening food.  This was a terrible mistake because I had actually stopped smoking for five months and had no real desire to smoke.  It was only the fear of getting fatter than sent me back to the cigarettes.

I went to a Revival in Down town Honolulu where the minister was asking everyone addicted to drugs to come up to the altar to be prayed over.  I went up for prayers.

My friends said, “Maryanne, you don’t take any drugs.”  I told them I thought cigaretes was one of the worst drugs to be addicted to.

When I got home after the Revival, I wanted cigarettes as much as ever.  I sat down and thought about the problem and it struck me that the worst thing for me when I stopped smoking the last time was I felt as though I had lost a good friend.  I was mourning for the comfort and companionship the cigarettes had given me.   How could I stop smoking without suffering this feeling of loss?  I decided I would not stop but I would allow myself to smoke one cigarette every night before going to sleep so I would not feel the loss.  It worked and eventually I did not need my nightly cigarette.  I finally quit and my son was very happy.