An email from this morning informs me that I have not been a smoker for three years as of today. They also inform me that I have been smoke-free for 1095 days, have NOT smoked 16,431 cigarettes (ewwww), and have saved over $4000 and over 4 months of my life. Whoohoo!

Happy 3 year Quit-iversary to me! Dudes, three freaking years. That’s hard to believe. I’ll tell ya, you never met anyone who loved smoking as much as I did. Loved. It. Loved the whole package of it. The image. The lighters (I have some awesome Zippos). The rolling-my-own. The going outside to smoke (and getting welcome reprieves from many, many things). The sharing of cigarettes with hot drunk friends. To this day, the taste of cigarettes and booze on lips I’m kissing makes me all weak in the knees.

But you know what? While I’ve missed it, there hasn’t been a single day since I quit that I regret quitting.

(When I told the (Ex)Advisor that I was pregnant, the first thing he said was “Good thing you’d already quit smoking, huh?” He remembers my quit well–it was during the time I was studying for my general exams. Dumb timing, but it worked out anyway, and the (Ex)Advisor actually announced my successful quitting at a department gathering, at the same time he announced my successful passing of generals. It was nice.)

So yeah. Go me!

/shameless self-promotion