Catching up

Day 24. A partial list of the alterations to my non-smoking body that have caught my attention over the last week:

* the return of a less persnickety palette
* a healthier appetite, most notably for between-meal snacks (and, by the way, thanks, Halloween)
* an expanding second chin
* flabbier arms that could, for now, reasonably pass for muscle
* a greater sense of fatigue, and a need for at least seven hours of sleep on average
* more sporadic-than-usual spaciness
* an actual, honest-to-god, no-fucking-joke outbreak of acne over my face (I am 26)
* a sense of calmness that I actually decipher as eerie
* fur where there was no fur before (sorry; couldn't resist)

You'll notice that, other than the first two (and one of them's debatable), none of these are exactly pluses. Here we are, folks: into the dregs. I was expecting to gain at least a little weight, as that is normal and also, depending on who you ask, probably a good thing for me. (Though I never hit below 180 lbs., I have been described as "rail-thin," as I also happen to be hideously tall.) What I wasn't prepared for was to find my face dotted with more and more red dots as the days progress. Halfway through Junior High, I was hit quite extraordinarily by acne; dermatologists were consulted, numerous medications were prescribed, and I was grouped along with others ceremoniously dubbed "pizza face." Since high school, I had managed to moisturize my skin to the point where my face had taken on a babyish texture. Now, I'm worried.

Still don't crave a cigarette, though I think I've developed a new fixation: nicorette. But that's for another post. (Literally. It'll be the next one.)