So, there I was burbling on about how I planned to give up smoking with a little help from Champix and possibly some willpower. But it's over, I'm back on the ciggies, off the Champix and feeling alarmingly not guilty about my spectacular fall off the wagon. Nontheless, I managed to smoke much less than usual for at least three weeks so that's something to be thankful for, right?
OK, maybe I'm just trying to see the upside where there isn't any. Maybe I'm a terrible failure worthy of your derision. Maybe I really will go green and explode if I don't stop lighting up (as is the common belief amongst 6 years olds these days, or so claims Firstborn).
Whatever. I am now committed to giving up on giving up. For today, anyway.
But one quandary remains - how on earth am I going to 'fess up about my failure to the charming Dr T? After all, kind authority figure + my bad behaviour = deep-rooted shame (akin to being dragged in front of the headmistress, aged 10, for punching annoying Clyde Sheldon on the nose). Oh cringe.