Hello all,
My name is Casey, and I'm 19 years old from Tennessee. Growing up, my dad was never without a can of skoal. Throughout high school, all the football coaches did it. My friends did it. I did it. Nothing was abnormal about it... In fact, it would have been abnormal had I NOT been a dipper.
Picked it up for the first time at the ripe age of 13. I was steady dipping by 14. Got many lectures and disapprovals from my parents about it, but the hypocrisy was unnerving. My mom smokes a pack of marlboros a day and as I mentioned previously, my dad was just the pot calling the kettle black.
I understood that they wanted better for me. I also understood that they knew it was bad if they themselves were slaves to their own vices.
What I didn't understand was the real reasoning behind their concerns: my parents know what it's like to be completely dependent on tobacco, unable to quit by their own free wills.
So after dipping a can of Copenhagen long cut a day for over four years, I finally decided to quit. I was at the house this past Sunday night when I realized that I needed to run out and buy a can. Laying in bed, 11 PM, not even dressed, this would have ordinarily rendered an emergency that would require me to get up, get dressed, and drive five miles to the nearest open market just for my fix.
For some reason, I decided it could wait until morning. My first win.
The next day, I woke up cranky and irritable. My bed was a haven of warmth that I was not eager to leave. I got up twenty minutes later than I had hoped. Speedily showering and throwing clothes on, I ran out and fired up the Dodge, reaching for the familiar can in the console, when I remembered my predicament. Facing the option of stopping for a can or being late for work, I opted for the latter. Win number two.
Upon arriving at work, just barely punching in on time, I went looking for a coworker of mine who shared with me the common bond of being a submissive tobacco user. I was soon informed that he had called out sick.... Fate was on my side, but I didn't realize it yet.
I made it, albeit crankily, all the way to lunch, when I couldn't make it to the store quickly enough. When I went in and was greeted by the familiar clerk, I immediately spouted out the order, which probably came across as rather rude, "Two cans of cope long cut." He turned around searching for it, and as fate would have it, they were completely out of my dip of choice. Not a roll under the counter, not a single can in a box, just out. I was so frustrated at this point that I took personal offense when he offered me a can of grizzly. Always nice to this poor guy, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"No, I don't want that shit."
As soon as the words left my mouth, I apologized for my rash behavior. It was then that I realized: I hadn't gone this long without a fix since junior high. Twelve hours without nicotine and I almost grabbed a gas station clerk by the throat for simply trying to help me.
At that point, I decided I was done. I apologized to the guy a few more times and saw a special behind the counter, "Electronic Cigarette, Disposable, $6.99" so I bought one. I've never been a smoker, but I had tried these things before and they weren't half bad.
Since then, I have burned through about twelve of those little e-cigarettes, every time I wanted a dip just taking a few puffs. They come in different nicotine varieties, so I started with the highest (18 mg) and I'm down to the 11. The plan is to be weened off completely in a month, and so far it is working okay.
The first few days were fine. Thursday was the easiest. The weekend, however, proved to be a challenge. My buddies all made fun of my little vapor device as they spat into their bottles and dipped merrily. It was hard, but I knew I had to cope (no pun intended).
Funny thing is, I started to realize how gross dipping really is. I completely threw away anything dip related, including my impressive collection of over 1000 cans. I threw away my mudjug, my copenhagen tin sign, everything. I cleaned out my truck of any cans, and since I haven't had a spit bottle sitting in there day in and day out, the interior actually smells better.
My girlfriend has noticed too. My hands are warmer and my breath smells better. We both like that :P
Bottom line, I'm excited about this journey. I've heard the first 100 days are the worst, so we'll see. It's hard, as I work in a field where I am constantly on jobs surrounded by other people who are dipping and smoking constantly. I'm only just now realizing, however, that I never want to be that guy again.
