My dad was a smoker, and the rest of the family hated it. In the car he would crack the window, but that would just blow half of it to the back seat. He would turn on a filter in the house which helped a little bit, but not enough, and we would end up smelling like smoke too.
I couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to take up smoking themselves considering how unpleasant it is to have to live around it. So, if you smoke, and a parent smoked, why did you take it up? Did it not bother you while you were growing up? If you hated it, were you subject to enough peer pressure to overcome the distaste?
Peer pressure - I’d imagine. (In other words - total and utter temporary stupidity)
My Mum smokes my dad smoked. My step-dad smoked. One of my brothers smokes.
I don’t smoke. I used to be anti-smoking but now I’m just apathetic to it. I’m anti-being-an-asshole which some people use smoking to do - such as choosing their ‘outside’ to be the fucking doorway of the fucking no-smoking building. In other words the ONE place where non-smokers have to pass through to get in and out of the building.
That’s not smoking’s fault, that’s the fault of being a tosser.
Same with mobile phones. Mobile phones themselves are not bad. But far too many people become oblivious and obnoxious when they are using their phone.
My parents both smoked while I was growing up. I hated it. The smell of Pall Mall tobacco in the bottom of my mom’s purse made me nauseous.
I never was pressured by peers to do anything I didn’t want to do. I never ever tried smoking - anything. I can’t stand the thought.
Both parents quit while I was away at college. It was nice to come back to visit home without the tobacco smells. It still is.
I won’t let people smoke in my place, I make them go out the fire door and smoke on the fire escape. Most of my friends don’t smoke, either, though, so it’s usually not an issue.
My parents and all but one sibling smoke or smoked.
Mom smoked when she was pregnant with me, since in the late 60s they really didn’t know any better.
I hated the smell of the smoke and the dirty ashtrays, but at around 13 I decided to try one just to see what the big deal was. I was hooked immediately. My theory is that I was born addicted to nicotine and that firing up that first cigarette just re-awakened the chemistry.
I smoked regularly from that moment on until I was 35. Now, it doesn’t bother me at all to be around it, but it does still make me jones a bit for it.
My parents smoked, and my Dad did the smoking in the car thing exactly as you describe. I started smoking at age 22 and smoked through about 35. I didn’t inhale a cigarette until that first one at 22 years old and I suspect in some way I was programmed to it.
That first cig brought on a calm and feeling of well being that I had never felt before from a chemical. I was quickly smoking regularly and settled in at a pack a day just like my father had. It felt so perfect and the repsonse physically was so strong that I can’t help but feel I inherited some natural affinity for it from my parents.
Or maybe a slight addiction from all the second-hand smoke?
My mom was a smoker until she quit when I was about 12. Then I smoked from 16 to 26. I started from peer pressure, and even 20 years ago the world was not as anti-smoking as now, so there wasn’t as much pressure against it.
I hated my mom’s smoking but loved smoking myself, and still miss it every day. Sigh.
Both my parents smoked. I started at 12, my youngest sister started at 14 or so. The middle sister never smoked (she was a cancer kid, so stayed away for those reasons too).
I quit at 21, and started and quit twice since then (for about 6 months each). My dad quit almost three years ago, my mom quit but struggles to stay quit. My youngest sister still smokes and doesn’t care to quit.
I remember I hated the smell traveling in the car with mom and dad. Made me feel sick. Hated the smell of the house and the smell of mom’s breath (smoke and coffee, yuck). But I loved it when I started. Mom and dad tried really hard to prevent me from smoking, but I took it up anyhow. I’m so glad I quit.
So what motivated you to take up smoking when you hated second hand smoke? That’s the thing I’m wondering. Was it just curiousity? I never had the peer pressure, and was too repulsed to wonder if there might be a good reason to do it myself.
I never intended to. My brother smoked and I was at college having a just god awful day. He left a pack of cigarettes in my desk drawer and I pulled one out and just dragged hard and fought through the burning sensation. I had never had a cigarette before that point.
My mother smoked while pregnant with me in the early sixties.
I hated the smell of smoke, dirty ashtrays and the coating of ugh indoor smoking leaves on surfaces.
But around 26 I started smoking. (How dumb can you get?) My theory was that I was already somewhat addicted to nicotine just by being exposed to it from conception onward. I was also living at home again with my parents and brother, all of whom smoked in the house.
My dad smoked, and when I was a kid I was constantly nagging at him stop. I don’t think I hated the smell of smoke really (he rarely smoked inside anyway) - it was more of a result from what we were learning at school (SMOKING IS BAD).
I started smoking myself once my best friend took up - no peer pressure, but I started smoking when the two of us were hanging out, just to keep her company. Soon I started smoking whenever I was drinking, and it went on from there. Now I smoke maybe 5-7 a day, depending. When I’m at my parents place I don’t smoke at all and experience no ill effects - I might crave a cigarette in passing after a meal, but not enough to sneak away and steal a smoke, and certainly not enough to make me cranky.
I think that if my boyfriend didn’t smoke I’d probably quit altogether (or cut back to just smoking when I drink).
Both my parents smoked. I started smoking when I was about 8 or 9. Taking drags off of my mom’s Kool menthols.
I almost never tell anyone this story, because I know they will judge my mom harshly. She knew I smoked.
The strange thing is, when I was about 17, she quit, cold turky. Out of the blue, not making any big deal about it, and not even mentioning it. I learned of it when I asked her for a cigarette, and she cooly answered, “Oh I quit.” And then I quit.
I don’t want to pretend that I did because she did. Actually, I was going through an…um…self awakening of some sort at that time, and I quit all sorts of stuff just to prove that I could. Alcohol and weed and cigarettes and meat…
But I really do believe deep down that my mom’s nerve to quit had something to do with it…on some level.
My dad is a heavy smoker. Mom is not a smoker at all.
Growing up most of my relatives smoked and they hung out at our house.
I never ever remember hating the smell of smoke or hating dirty ashtrays. I never remember pressuring my dad to quit, either.
I also never ever remember feeling peer pressure to smoke. I started at 17 (my brother probably started at 17 too, two years before me) and I hid it from all my friends. None of my friends smoke, still.
I took it up heavy when I went away to college. I was dreadfully homesick. Smoke = home.
My dad was a heavy smoker and my mom didn’t smoke at all (how she put up with it, I’ll never know). None of the four of us kids smoke or ever have smoked as an addiction (I think we have all had the odd butt while drinking). Funny thing is, though, I still dream about smoking, and I haven’t had a puff of a cigarette in decades.
My mom smoked while she was pregnant with me and my brother, and all throughout our childhoods; yes we were trapped in the smoky car many times begging for the window to be rolled down more so we could breathe. She’s in her early 60s now and still smokes as much as she ever did. She smokes inside the house, and the house is just rank. And unfortunately I am living at home right now, and it is SO HARD to live with it. The smoke permeates everything, my clothes, my hair, my belongings. Sometimes I just cannot be around her because the fog of smoke is so thick.
My mom smokes ultra lights, but her twin sister, my aunt, still smokes Marlboro Reds. How dangerous is that?! When the two of them are together, they chain smoke, and the house gets so smoky it’s almost unbearable. But you cannot say anything, it is a very touchy subject and my mom and aunt will only get very angry and defensive. I’ve been begging my mom to quit since I was a kid and I am pretty sure she never will. She loves to smoke. I am kind of resigned to the probability that I will have to see one or both of them die a terrible smoking-related death and I am not looking forward to it.
Not to mention, the amount of secondhand smoke my father and I breathe just being in the same house is probably enough to give us lung cancer too. It’s very sad ;(
Oh yeah, and neither my brother or I have ever smoked.
My father smoked, and my mother would occasionally. I hate the smell of smoke in cars, and in houses, on my clothes, but I smoke. I smoke outside, occasionally in the car, and never inside. I just did it because I wanted tolearn how to smoke.
Both of my parents smoked. I thought it was cool. They looked so cool smoking, they were beautiful looking people naturally, so it just transferred to their smoking habit. They weren’t smoking all of the time, just when we could all be together having some sort of relaxed times. It was a positive re-enforcement thing. The car thing was no problem, since we didn’t have A/C in cars in the 60s. At least not in *our *cars. My grandmother smoked, and every other relative smoked also. Also, if we had cool people on TV like Lucy and Ricky, Johnny Carson, and even Dick Van Dyke smoking, it must be good. I finally started when this cute girl in high school was talking with me during break and she whipped out a Kool. I was hooked even before I lit one up!
Both parents smoke(d). Mom cigarettes, dad cigars and sometimes cigarettes. I always liked the smell of the cigars, but not the cigarettes. When I was about 17, I tried and tried to like smoking, but I never got past the stage of vomiting uncontrollably. I have smoked a few dozen cigarettes in my life, and have never NOT felt nauseous afterward.