Sandwiches: Why It's Better to Have Never Loved at All

I know this post title seems a little bit random, but I have a train of thought here, so just go with me, and we'll see what happens.

I have a love/hate relationship with sandwiches. Ever since I started having problems with my gallbladder, my family physician recommended that I go on a low-fat diet. It's great because it's helping me lose a little bit of the extraneous chub. It's bad because I eat a lot of sandwiches, in different forms.
There's not a lot of fat in turkey meat, low-fat cheese, and lettuce thrown on a couple slices of wheat toast. When I first got the order to go on a low-fat diet, one of the only things I could eat on some days was a salad or a turkey sandwich. And while sandwiches are great because they're easy to make and can be customized by the individual preparing them, they also start to get old after a while. While I'm eating my turkey sandwich, I have friends around me with hamburgers and fries, tacos, hot dogs, pizza, etc. And I start to miss the days that I could eat these things.

If "you are what you eat" is true, this is a semi-accurate self-portrait.

I've started to wonder if it would've been better for me had I never tried the things I can't eat now. If, somehow, we could go back in time and provide my family with the idea that I couldn't have fat from the beginning, it might be easier to ignore the siren song of ice cream and fried chicken. If I'd never eaten those things, I would never crave them, miss the taste of them, etc. Maybe, if I'd been conditioned to eat only fat free foods from day one, I would find the smell of fast food cooking a lot less appealing, and would instead enjoy the taste of fruits and veggies a lot more.

The problem is, I did experience those things. And right now, I'm experiencing the pain of not being able to enjoy them any longer. I hate it when I bake and can't taste what I'm making. I hate it when my friends have to change around restaurant plans because I'm coming along, and I can't eat at McDonald's or Burger King or Cook-Out. I miss Cook-Out milkshakes. I miss Chick-Fil-A's breaded chicken sandwich. I miss huge, juicy cheeseburgers with bacon hanging out the sides. I miss fries. I miss chili cheese dogs and fried Oreos and funnel cakes and ice cream sundaes (I really wish I could try a banana split one day...) and cookies and pudding and Little Debbie snacks and Drake's Cakes Funny Bones and Hershey's bars and Taco Bell and real dairy products (especially cream cheese and chocolate milk), and everything I just can't have anymore that I used to be able to enjoy. I understand that it's nice to be able to say I've tried them, but it sure makes it that much harder to give them up.

This is nutritional information for a salad. Total fat is in the double digits. Scared? Yeah, me too.

But this made me start thinking about this saying: "It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all."
It made me wonder if this saying was really true. I mean, my love affair with anything that incorporated chocolate, cheese, and/or bacon was abruptly broken off, and I'm having a very difficult time moving on. I'm trying to talk myself through the mantra that I'm better off without that relationship, but it's so much harder. Honestly, what did I gain from my time spent eating all of that unhealthy food? I gained an addiction and a taste for something I've removed from my life permanently.

So what about love with people? Well, I suppose there's more to gain from a relationship with another person than there is from a relationship with junk food. By loving someone and losing them, you learn a lot more due to human interaction. It still remains a mystery to me whether or not it's worth it to date or fall in love with some people. I also think that, if you truly loved someone and that person loved you in return, losing them would be a crushing blow. You would almost be missing a piece of yourself. All the while, those who have yet to experience that kind of relationship don't feel that devastation.

"Ignorance is bliss." You might not think you'd be happier had you never loved that person, but you can't honestly say that you know. If you'd never loved them, you'd never have known what you do know because of it. I know I'd be a lot happier right now had I never experienced fatty foods. Who knows? Maybe you can't really compare milkshakes and turkey sandwiches to ex-boyfriends, but all I know for sure right now is that I'll be craving a Thin Mint Blizzard for the rest of the night.

This is the closest I will come to eating a Thin Mint Blizzard.

Coming Home from College

Today, I thought I'd talk about why coming home from college is always a different experience than you want it to be.
First off, I have a job on campus with the school I'm attending, so, over the summer, they offer me housing and I get paid to do my job. I have to buy groceries and pay other living expenses, but none of the rent or electricity or water situations. Then there are the college kids who come home briefly and go on crazy summer vacations (like Cancun, or Lutheran Youth Retreat Camp). Then there are those that come home and get a summer job. Then, there are the college summer home bums. Regardless, all college students (undergrads, at least) will, at some point over at least one of their summers, come home.

Coming home after being in college for so long is kind of a surreal feeling. As you set your dates and pack your bags, you remember all the great things about going home. Home-cooked food, doing your laundry, helping your mom in her flower garden, taking your little cousins to the park after school, going out on the lake at your best friend's house. And you think to yourself, Man, those were some good times. And you love it. You can't wait. Campfires in the backyard with marshmallows, fireworks on the 4th of July, eating watermelon out on the back porch and trying to see who could spit the seeds the farthest, going to the county fair and getting some fried Oreos. You even think you'll be looking forward to some chores that have been begging for some attention, like painting the shed or mowing the grass, if the weather's nice.

Pictured above: An essential part of any summer, ever.

And then, you get home. The first couple days, you're star-struck. My first couple days were spent running around everywhere and doing all kinds of things. The first day I was back, I went and helped my mom out with her preschool's graduation ceremony. It was fun. I set up decorations and the cake, cookies, and punch for the reception afterwards, I did my mom's hair, I finished making the programs for the event, I cleaned things up afterwards, served people punch, and even took request forms for the summer school program. The second day was fun, too, because we had some running around in town to do. My dad got fitted for a tux for my sister's wedding (which, by the way, is the main reason I'm home right now), we went and got supplies to brew beer for the wedding, and we went to the laundromat, which was actually fun since I could gossip with my mom and we had errands to run between loads.

When I do laundry in college, I try to clean every piece of laundry I possibly can...

But, then, when you run out of errands to run and fun things to do, the reality of where you are starts to sink in. You remember why you didn't like being home in the first place, why you felt the need to go off to college and leave. You see the broken washer, being used as a storage table in the back room. You see your bedroom being used as a second attic/litter box/bedroom for your cat. Your bed is covered in stained sheets, old stuffed animals from your childhood, and a ton of random things your parents couldn't find a spot for or just didn't want to take out to the shed, yet. You find the floor torn up and being redone. You end up spending three days cleaning up after these people, doing dishes, putting away laundry, dusting and sweeping up the ash everywhere. You eventually can't seem to go anywhere or do anything because there's nowhere to go and nothing to do. You're going stir crazy because you don't have a car or any friends in the area, anymore. Somehow, anyone who matters to you has moved up in to the mountains, or they just really don't care enough about you to tell you where they are.
And that's when you start to feel alone, and bored all the time. No, it's not that there aren't things around the house that still don't need to be done, it's just you want some sort of freedom. You're stuck in the middle of being perpetually forced into choredom, or succumbing to straight-up boredom. It's almost like you're a hamster in a wheel who thought he was going somewhere whenever he ran, but then he started truly noticing that his surroundings were never changing as he ran. No matter how hard and how fast he ran, he was stuck in the same spot.

This hamster, however, is going somewhere. Little BA...

That's how it feels to come home after college. You've been away for so long, in a different place, on a different schedule, constantly surrounded by different stimuli. But the longer you're away from home and the more attached you become to the place you don't call home, the less welcome you feel when you actually go home...

Sorry, I know that was depressing, but it's kind of how I've been feeling, as I've been home for almost a week. I've also noticed that I snack more when I'm home, and I watch more TV (which isn't saying much, since I don't really intentionally watch TV when I'm at school).

The Cost of Taking Care of Oneself

All we really need to survive is food and water. Honestly, even though it'd be gross, difficult, uncomfortable, and inconvenient, that is technically all a human needs to survive. But when you have medical problems, it's not like you can eat them away, or drink enough water to just flush all of them out of your system. So, living past the age of maybe 40 for healthy people would require some medical attention. The problem is that it doesn't run cheap at all.

I've been having an issue for a while. By 'a while', I mean for almost a full year now, I've been having pains in my upper right abdomen. After a good amount of time having the pains, I kind of did my own personal medical assessment, and, based on family history, symptoms, etc., I came to the conclusion that it had something to do with my gallbladder (quite frankly, I'm assuming gallstones). But, of course, this diagnosis was done by means of self, and I couldn't really be sure. I waited so long to go to the doctor because I knew the health insurance I got from the school wouldn't be enough to really cover the kind of attention I needed. I know that, in order to prove that gallstones are there or that something else is wrong, I'd need some tests run. Specifically, an ultrasound.

An ultrasound costs $789.00.

Surgery to remove my mom's gallbladder 16 years ago was $13,000.00.

Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? The pain can be pretty rough sometimes, but I could live with it for the rest of my life, if I had to. The issue is that I actually can't. Gallstones can cause other more serious medical conditions, such as pancreatitis or appendicitis. I can't keep on living in this condition. The gallbladder (given that's what my problem turns out to be) has to be removed to prevent further complications.

The kind of money it takes to have a doctor see you is ridiculous. I want to go into the medical field, but with all the money and insurance and problems involved, I almost can't bear the thought of it. Malpractice insurance is so high. You know how, when you get into a car accident, your car insurance rates can go up? I wonder if it's the same for malpractice insurance. A patient tries to sue you for something, and your insurance goes up.
But there's a lot of money involved because, if you think about it, these are peoples' lives. It's not like a car, where, if you wreck it, you can just buy a new one to replace it. Individual human beings can't simply be replaced with a newer, shinier model.

I just sometimes worry that I'm going to die at home, alone, and young, a sad, preventable death, because I was too broke to be able to afford a doctor visit. I wonder if anyone has ever sued because they couldn't afford to go to a doctor and that killed someone they loved? I mean, people sue over spilled coffee, why not over prices being too high? That $789.00 is more than I make in 3 months. That $13,000 is just a little less than tuition to go to the school I'm currently in. I can not afford it. Can not.

So, what do I do? Sit back and let the problem get me, or try to find a way to help myself?

The insurance I currently have won't cover any of this, I know that. I went in to Urgent Care on Friday with it, regardless. It put off the necessity to pay up front. I know the claim will get denied, though, and the bill will be sent directly to my house right after. I'm just hoping it takes some time, so I can get enough money to start making payments. I know my parents will help me, but I also know that we're actually a very poor family, and that I'll have to supplement them with whatever income I get.

I'm just hoping that this condition is serious enough to warrant spending this amount of money on it. Otherwise, put the darn gallbladder back in, and give me a refund.

What It Really Means to Be Bullied

This is a subject I've wanted to talk about for a while, but I haven't gotten much of a chance until now, since I've been super busy and all that.

Anyway, I met a man in the fall of this past year who came to my college to talk about bullying. He was sharing the story of his son, who'd been bullied constantly because of his sexual orientation. The father let us listen to one of the messages on his answering machine, cursing out his son for being a "faggot" and other such comments. And, that day, he taught me a life lesson I'll never forget.

Bullying is more than you think it is. It's more than just calling a kid names and shoving him into a locker. It's more than telling a girl she's a slut and dumping your food on her. It's a lot more. And it affects more of us than we realize. The fact is that I'm pretty sure every single person in the entire world has been or will be bullied at some point in his or her life, and will bully someone else. Why? Because we don't even realize we're doing it.

You're in the hallway at school with a group of your friends. They're all joking, and trying to one-up each other with their insults and witty humor. One of them looks at you, and makes a joke about you. Where do we draw the line between what's bullying and what's joking? Well, how did you feel after that person said what he or she did? Did it just bounce off? Did you shrug and dust it off? Did it affect you, but you're pretending it didn't? Did it actually hurt your feelings? This is blurry ground. The truth is, if it affected your self-esteem or self-confidence, then it's considered bullying. Like I said, people don't even realize they're doing it. For example, I have a friend who is brutally honest in every single aspect of her life. But sometimes, she says the wrong thing in the wrong way at the wrong time. She has a tendency to call me "a dumbass" when I don't get something right away. The only thing I personally think I have going for me is my intellect, so, when she says that, she tears down the one part of me I feel is worth something. I don't mean to take it to heart, and I wouldn't, but I can't help it. She says it so sincerely that it makes me doubt myself, and I begin to feel bad. Then she'll tell me that I could be great at so many things if I didn't let life pass me by and if I wasn't afraid of life. So, I have a lot of fears and phobias, and it's something about myself that I'm not proud of, but it hurts when someone takes a stab at the most sensitive parts of yourself. Whether you believe it or not, no matter how close you are to these kinds of people, they are bullying you. Maybe to make themselves feel better, maybe because they mean the best but can't properly express it. Regardless, they're still hurting you, and thus, they're still bullying you.

We may not even realize it's happening, but it does actually affect all of us. The more I think about those things she and other people have said to me in that same manner, the worse I feel about myself. You know what? I know I have things wrong with me, I don't need you to point them out. It's like putting salt in the wounds, poking the bruises. They're messing with the soft, broken parts of other human beings and ruining self-confidence.

I know my inadequacies better than you do, I don't need you to point them out. I know that I'm not always the smartest. I know I got that math problem wrong. I know it took me until 5th grade to be able to tie my shoes. I know I'm afraid of heights, drowning, being on stage, being rejected, judgment by peers, feeling certain types of pain, doing stupid things, death, situations that are outside of my control, flying, roller coasters, etc. I know I'm not particularly pretty. I know I'm not a size 2. I know my family is broke. I know my clothes smell like smoke. I know I can't drive. I know I don't have any talents. I know I'm not particularly good at remembering certain things. I know I get stressed out. I know I get annoyed with people. I know I gossip when I shouldn't. I know I've been dishonest. I know I apologize too much. I know I have a hard time telling people when I'm upset with them and end up feeling bad for saying that someone upset me. I know I can be passive-aggressive. I know I'm short. I know I have a big nose. I know I have a birthmark on my arm. I know I have less Facebook friends than you. I know I'm a nerd, and love video games. I know I haven't taken care of myself like I should have. I know I've had crushes on some people that others may find unattractive. I know I care too much about what other people think of me. I know I don't get enough sleep and am often tired. I know I get sick often. I know I'm weak, both physically and emotionally. I know I daydream too much. I know I'll never be the person I want to be.

So, why tell me these things? I try to put them behind me, so I can just live my life and make the best of my situation. But instead, you're constantly trying to remind me of my extensive list of shortcomings. You know that's why people commit suicide. They get to the point that they're so overwhelmed by all the "horrible things" people keep pointing out about them, that they snap and decide they'd rather not live as the people they are, and, since they don't know how to change the way they look, act, dress, like, etc., they just decide to end it.

Maybe you shouldn't be doing this to people and causing this pain. Maybe you should be reminding people what's good about them. If they don't know it's a joke, don't joke with them. There are so many wonderful things about people. We've all got aspects to us that makes our lives worth living, and no one person is better than any other person. You may look at someone and think, "Why can't I look like her? Why can't I have what he has? Why do I have to be lesser?", but the truth is that everyone has their faults and failures, and their good parts. Everyone is different. One person may be good-looking, another may be smart, another may be athletic, another may be a good cook, a good musician, a good author, a good hunter, etc. Some of us have green thumbs, some of us are double-jointed, some of us have incredible memories, some of us are creative, some of us have strength, some of us have luck.

I got a little off-topic there at the end, but you see what I mean? Bullying someone isn't just severe physical violence and obvious put-downs. All it takes is an insult that someone takes to heart. Just be careful what you say, or you could be bullying.

Understanding Men: The Three Things

I went to work a few weeks ago, and my boss ended up somehow lecturing us on how men think simply because I was trying to understand the mind of a male coworker.
At the precise moment this conversation began, this young man was looking down and away, seemingly distracted by what I assumed was thought. After asking him what was on his mind, he replied, "Nothing", and my boss decided to clarify that men don't actually think the same way women do (really? I had no idea. *Note: this is heavy in sarcasm*).

According to my male boss, men do think, but in specific patterns. There is always one of three things on a man's mind:

1. FOOD. When a man is hungry, apparently it's difficult to concentrate on anything else. When I was actually having this conversation with my boss, he was hungry at the time, and explained that, all he seemed to be capable of thinking about at the moment was where he was going for lunch that day and what he might order. Now, I'm not saying men can't function if they're not fed, I'm saying that, when they're hungry, it seems to be one of the main focuses of their mind. This is the biggest part of the triangle. If a guy is hungry, he isn't thinking about any of the other things on this list. Now, you and your beau have to go get something to eat at that restaurant he really wants to go to...

2. SEX. This is the one that women are the most familiar with, and think that it dominates male brains a majority of the time. It is number 2 on this list, just below food (which, frankly, is more important for individual survival, which would be important for survival of the species, so, from an evolutionary standpoint, it makes sense, and this is a run-on sentence), which means it does take precedence over something else men have a tendency to focus on. When a man wants sex, he can't think about the next thing on the list, but when he's hungry, he can't think about sex. Get it now? So, now that he's full, I guess you'll have to indulge him, so his brain blood will redistribute itself more evenly...

3. TOYS. This category encompasses all of the hobbies, jobs, etc. that men have. This could be hunting, fishing, video games, weaponry, cars, music, etc. Whatever his favorite to-dos are. This is the other thing men think about predominantly. Of course, it is third on the list to sex and food, so if he's hungry or horny, toys (unless they're sexy time toys) are the furthest things from his mind. After he's been filled to the brim with food and satisfied sexually, you've got to take him out shopping so he can get those new recording headphones he's had his eye on for a while...

I want to go ahead and tell you that this is not always the case of all men. Like, men are not all selfish assholes who can only focus on one of three things. My boss was just pointing out that, more often than not, these are the things men are thinking about.
Allow me to provide a comparison for the women reading this:

A woman can pick up a water bottle and her train of thought could, for example, go something like this:
"This is purified spring water. I wonder how they purify it? You know, there are children in Africa who can't drink pure water. Do they have bottles for them? Or purifiers? The water over there supposedly has worms and shit in it. That's gross. One time, I saw this episode of this medical show I watch where this girl came back from a third world country with worms in her lungs, and they had to give her special medicine, and she was afraid to tell her boyfriend because she thought he might be repulsed by her imperfections. Are men really that shallow? Well, I guess worms are on the inside, so it's not really shallow... But I mean, if he really loved her, he wouldn't leave her, right? Oh! That reminds me of a country song! And my friend Nina needs to see that video we made to that Brad Paisley song. Oh, those were some fun times. I do miss making videos with my high school friends. I wonder what Janet is up to these days? Haven't heard from her in years. Haven't seen her on Facebook, either."

Now, because I'm not a man, I can't provide an accurate example for men, but, as far as I know, their minds don't work exactly the same way as ours. I have talked to a guy who said he was notorious for thinking all the time, and didn't understand how it was possible for someone not to think. But the question I have is, what does he think about, then? I mean, what if you were at work and you were hungry from the moment you got there, and you couldn't go on break for several hours? As a guy, would you be thinking about food for that entire time span? Somehow, I don't think that's right or possible.

But then again, I'm a woman, and what do I know?

College Hours

I'm back on campus in college now, and I'm about to wrap up my second week (first full week) of classes. Upon going into one class and listening to the professor's standards, I quickly became discouraged. He said that, for every hour that we spent in class, we should spend at least 2 outside of class studying for said class.

So, out of curiosity, I did the math to see what that would mean. I have French for an hour a day 5 days a week, Chemistry for an hour a day 3 days a week, Anatomy an hour a day 3 days a week, Genetics an hour a day for 3 days a week, and Seminar for an hour once a week. So, for French, that's 10 hours a week, Chemistry 6, Anatomy 6, Genetics 6, and Seminar 2, outside of class. I spend 3 hours in Chemistry lab, 3 hours in Genetics lab, and 2 1/2 hours in Anatomy lab. Adding it all up, I spend 15 hours a week in class, 8 1/2 hours a week in lab, and 30 hours a week outside of class (without counting work I'm supposed to do outside of labs, also) that adds up to 53 and 1/2 hours on school work. If I add the outside lab work (which would add up to 17 extra hours outside of class a week), that becomes 70 1/2 hours a week on class work without extracurricular activities, which my college highly encourages us to take part in. Assuming I'm awake for 16 hours a day, 7 days a week, that means I have 112 hours total to do all this stuff. To put some more things into perspective I'm an officer in 2 different clubs, I'm trying to work about 20 hours a week, I have friends and a boyfriend, I was just cast in a play with rehearsals 5 days a week, and I enjoy having a few hobbies (like video games, reading, writing, hiking, etc.).

I've learned something about college:

I feel like the social life circle can include hobbies and extracurricular activities. The problem is, I've been trying too hard for the past 2 and 1/2 years to maintain an even balance between the 3, and instead, it seems like I'm failing at all of them. But I've noticed that, if I don't get enough sleep because I pulled an all-nighter to do homework, I can't focus in class the next day. If I don't get good grades, I can't spend my time out and about with my friends. If I can't do stress-relieving activities, I'll get to frazzled to sleep or focus. Honestly, we need all three, but it doesn't seem like we can have it all.

It's not high school anymore, though I am having fun in college. But don't expect me to actually spend 70 1/2 hours outside of class on classwork. I'm trying hard to broaden my horizons and take care of myself while getting a degree, like the people who recruited me to come here told me to do. Now, I'm going to sign off my blog and do some anatomy homework while texting my friends and getting ready for bed. Hopefully, they all work out before I wake up in the morning.

Why I Hate (and Appreciate) Living with Smokers

I'm a college student, so I've been at home on break for the past couple weeks, and this is something that crosses my mind every time I make the transition between dorm and home life. A majority of my family members all smoke cigarettes.

I was hoping, before I thought of posting this, that one of their New Year's resolutions would be to quit, but, with how many trips were recently made to the convenient store on a "beer and smokes run", I doubt that'll happen any time soon. Even though some of them have quit before, stress gets to people, and they have a tendency to revisit their old, bad habits for a sense of relief and familiarity. People forget that their actions have consequences on others, though, when they're caught up in what they want.

Here are some of the things I've learned about living with smokers:

1. They're wasting money. My sister and one of her boyfriends of college life past had decided to do a projection about how much money my parents spend on beer and cigarettes every year. This was during at time, however, before a few extra people picked up the bad habit. Think about it: a pack of cigarettes cost about $4.00 where I live. Now, consider that one of my family members usually buys a pack a day. There're 365 days in a year. Even if he skips buying cigarettes, say, half the year (let's round up to 183 days), it's still costing $728. With that number, keep in mind that he doesn't actually skip quite that many days. On top of that, we now have 3 people in the house with a similar habit. Even if they buy cigarettes only a fourth of the days in a year (let's go ahead and round to 91 days since it's close), that's 91 x 3 x 4 which is $1092. You know, spending money like that wouldn't even bother me (I've kind of always factored that kind of money out of our budget, anyway), except my family is always complaining about not having enough money. I mean, does it sound so crazy to say, hey, you know, if you quit smoking, we'd add at least $1000 more every year to our budget? I wonder if throwing around that amount of money would inspire some action on their parts...

2. They have to have the windows open in the car. On nice days, this is actually kind of lovely. During spring or early fall when the air is between 60 and 70 degrees, the light breeze coming from the open car windows is refreshing. But, when it's maybe 30 degrees outside and you're bundled up in the backseat, 3 car windows cracked, the frosty, dry outside air is not welcome. I understand that they have to vent the smoke and everything, but it's awful because what actually happens is that the smoke doesn't all make it out and ends up blowing into your face. Speaking of things blowing in your face...

3. There are ashes (and ash trays) everywhere. When that air blows in your face from the person in front of you in the car smoking his cigarette, it brings smoke and ash with it. Sometimes, my entire lap will be coated in ash, and sometimes, some of the ashes are still hot. Our house has ashes everywhere. There are ashes on every counter space and table top, embedded in the carpets, and lightly dusting every surface of every object that's laid on any open surface for any extended period of time. For example, I sometimes have to blow and/or wipe the ashes off the screen of my phone in order to use it at points during the day if I set it uncovered on a table. Also, there's an ash tray on almost every open surface in our house. But the thing is, they don't always use them. Sure, the trays are full of ashes and butts, but the bathroom sinks will never be fully clean again after having been used multiple times as an ash tray. I've tried to scrub the black flecks of ash dust out of the porcelain basin many times, but to no avail.

4. Everything in the house has been affected by the habit. Clearly, there can be ash everywhere, but that's not the only thing. There are burn marks in things. The carpet in places, one of the throw blankets, the recliner. Places where cigarettes have fallen on the floor, places where my dad's fallen asleep with a cigarette in his mouth. Our clothes smell like it. I can't smell it at home, but when I come back to college and I'm around people who don't smoke and there's not constantly the smell of smoke in the house, the scent of it is all over everything I brought home. My clothes that I cleaned, my suitcase, my purse, etc. My clean clothes don't smell clean, and I constantly am self-conscious. I remember I was sitting in class one day in middle school and some guy that would joke with me passed by and sniffed my hair. I remember him backing up and saying, "Your hair smells like smoke". I tried to wave it off, saying something about how I didn't like my new conditioner, but the comment stuck with me. I've had multiple people tell me that my clothes smelled like smoke. I'm sorry, I can't help it? The walls and ceiling are tinged slightly with brown smoke.

5. I worry about their life spans. Let me explain this one a little bit. Every time I hear one of my family members cough, it's not just a simple cough or two, and done. No, it's always a coughing fit that sounds like his lungs are full of gunk. A couple members both laugh a wheezing, smoker's sort of laugh. I'm worried that someone is going to end up with lung cancer. I want my family around to see my children graduate from high school, but I'm so worried that, if the habit stays, they won't. The thing is, they know it's unhealthy, but that doesn't seem to be enough motivation to quit.

6. I have first-hand experience with withdrawal. I've watched how irritable they get if they don't smoke after a certain amount of time. In fact, I deal with it all the time. If someone forgets to pick up a pack of cigarettes, we have to go out again a few hours later specifically to get the sticks. But this isn't necessarily a bad thing, either. See, I know how hard it is for them to quit. I want to go into the medical field, and, if I do so, I'm going to be dealing with people trying to quit drug use, so it's good to be able to see how they react and what I need to do to help. Like I said, people have quit before, and I was there while they were going through it.

7. I now have a disdain for the habit. Thanks to experiencing the habit so closely every single day, I know I'll never do it. In fact, people have offered for me to try, and I blatantly refuse. It's not that I'm trying to be a prude, it's just that I know what it can do to a person from experience, and I want to avoid that fate at all costs. I was even afraid to try smoking nicotine-free, non-addictive hookah because the act of smoking was always the same to me. The good news is, I'll never get addicted to cigarettes.

I understand why people do it, it's a stress-relief. But I just wish that people wouldn't. I mean, there are other options. I won't pester them about quitting, because I do believe it is supposed to be up to them. I love my family dearly and I will always love them, smokers or not, but I sometimes wish they would just kick the bad habit. I think we'd be happier without it.