Yesterday, late afternoon, I came THIS close to giving in to the nicotine monster. The craving was so intense that my brain was constantly convincing me that despite the health risks associated with smoking, I was a smoker, had been for 40 years, and that I am plain crazy to give up something that has been such an enjoyable part of my life for so long.

I was standing cigarette in hand, ready to light up, when my one smoker friend softly said: “Don’t, Ilse. You’ll regret it.”

His tone of voice and the look in his eyes brought me back from the brink of disaster and silenced the voice of the little devil on my shoulder. He was 100% correct. I would have regretted it. Immensely.

Thank you, Rian. Not only do you make a mean potjie, you are a true friend and definitely not one of those smokers who secretly enjoy it when their partners in crime are overwhelmed by the craving to smoke.

After all, more and more people are giving up, so we are a dying breed – pun intended.

After that I was fine. Strange how a narrow escape can actually strengthen your resolve to not give in to the crafty cravings.

I look my cravings in the eye (they look like little devils crossed with the Minions from the movie Despicable Me) and say: “That’s all you are - a craving. You are not real. Just a representative of something my body foolishly wants and my brain has mistakenly decided it needs.”

And then I tell it to get stuffed.

Sometimes in stronger words. You have to be very mean to these little imps. They are extremely persistent, so asking them to make a sexual departure is really the only language they understand. And as they are extremely thick-skinned, they constantly return for more verbal abuse. Sadistic little masochists, if you ask me!

Well, despite my close call and thanks to Rian, I’m still not the butt of the joke (sorry, a bit trite, but(t) I couldn’t resist… he, he, he).

Wow, actually made it into week two.

So, let’s keep calm and pretend it’s not Monday.

Have a good one!