Today I was the subject of a photo shoot for a French magazine called Society. Pregnancy is not a dress I like to wear in occasions such as these. At the moment, a wet soggy sponge like me finds it particularly difficult to be confident. The photographer suggested I smoke a cigar for a few frames. Sure, I thought. There was a time in my life that I enjoyed a fine cigar now and again. The habit was inspired once by a tobacco man in a three-piece suit who laughed at me when I inquired about the kind of cigar a lady might enjoy. I went back to him monthly and bought only the most masculine smoke just to spite him.
In this spirit, I put a flame to it and puffed away. In capturing the perfect shot, I puffed quite a bit, quite quickly. Then, the room was no longer level and my head no longer on my shoulders. I went outdoors to stand under the stars and breathe real air. I vomited into the snow three times.
I learned a lesson tonight. Do not smoke cigars while pregnant and probably, don’t smoke cigars in general.
You win tobacco man.