No More Dirty Butts!

I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to fit my butt in there any time soon, let alone multiple butts. May I also point out the fact that it’s being biased towards Australian made butts as well, isn’t that a bit racist? It’s really limiting its options here… and what’s it got planned for those butts it’s collecting, one’s mind can be carried away on a wild tangent. Perhaps all these ditch bins and carry cans are hoarding our butt rubbish to build super butt soldiers who will suffocate the breathing races and build their empire on our lifeless oxygen deprived dunes.

There was a time when this vessel for a pungent social habit was relative to me, but as this sentence would insinuate, it is not anymore. I recollect the days where this habit sprouted from, where my sibling and I would meander down to the corner shop, cigarettes in hand and fuelled by a little bit of rebellion. We were in hindsight not only rebelling against our parents but our bodies as well. Of course, our parents clued on to our sneaky little adventures and decided to bust us one day brushing our teeth after one of our mischievous trips. No matter how much you stand there and deny it when you’re caught, there’s no denying it.

A few years later graced me with a niggling cough, and little to no stamina when trekking off in to the wild or hitting the gym. I knew it was time to give it up when after a strenuous 45 degree scramble hike of a pair of hours to a secluded rainforest retreat turned my face green and put me out of action the next day. The detox just from physical work was so overwhelming, I knew there were no ifs, butts or maybes if I wanted to keep seeing the higher parts of the world.

Now there is absolutely no doubt that we are all aware of the repercussions and degeneration of a healthy body that smoking brings. It’s plastered all over the packets right there, flashing warnings from every surface of the box, there’s no hiding them and their adorned highly illustrative imagery that accompany them. I won some battles here and there by telling myself to give it fifteen minutes before acting on an urge or just not visiting the places where I would make an exchange for these little smokin’ sticks. The war, however was totally habitual and orbited around social associations, not in knowing the health risks.

Alone, I had this in the bag! As soon as I was around someone else who I used to share the experience with, it was game over, shut my eyes it doesn’t count if I don’t see it, over, K.O. Seasoned with an air of denial, I finally discovered a pattern in my trigger points which allowed me to finally pull out my ultimate boss weapon and execute my finishing move! Point being, the hard part was not the cigarette itself, because the taste can be like licking a sidewalk in the middle of an industrial disposal alleyway, tried it? The hard part was the experiences I attached to the habit. Having something in your hand on a social setting makes it seem less weird, consider this, you walk in to an event that’s rambling with people and you’ve come alone. Do you just zig zag through the room with your hands in your pockets like you’re about to hold a heist, or maybe you just stand there for a bit with your arms hanging limp by your side just scouting the room with your eye balls, kinda unusual right? Most would like to hold a drink, a camera or even a diary depending on the event, it’s almost like a social protective thing, same goes for cigarettes if the venue permits.

I fell back in to my old habits once or twice, but not for long. Awareness alone is not the answer but it’s a huge turning point. A little bit of stubbornness and pickiness of where to place myself socially saw me gain my health back and the ability to walk for hours and feel energised afterwards. Bless these meat sticks and not the smokin’ sticks.

** Smokin’ stuff

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