Month: February 2007

The little black dress

There we go, it’s hard to better describe the evening at Ginette’s than Helen already did. Moreover, it’s not cool to lay it on thick for those who were not here. But at the same time, it was so nice that I feel like telling, in my own way. But since you already know how it went, I’ll tell you the ‘before part’, alright?

– 15h00: I receive Helene’s 57th email in two days to tell me she found her dream dress for 193 euros and a pair of biker boots, easy to put on and which rooocks. She’s spent more than three hundred euros so far and is not sure it’s reasonable. I do what you must always do with friends when it comes to inconsiderate purchase. I lie and say it’s very reasonable.

– 15h03: Julie still hasn’t chosen her outfit, it worries her.

– 15h05: Pomme is planning to wear a super sexy low-necked tunic. But she hesitates.

– 15h08: I know too well what I’m going to wear. My magic Promod dress bought during sales for 29 euros. With my green cowboy boots, which don’t win unanimous support but are as comfortable as sleepers.

– 15h15: It’s really really nice to have your outfit sorted in advance. No worries, no hassle. When I see the girls worrying so much, I have a good laugh. But I understand, it must be really hard to meet your public without THE outfit in which you look fabulous.

– 15h18: I like my black dress too much. It fits closely round my tummy but now I’m a girl who assumes so I don’t give a damn.

– 15h30: Hélène has a headache, she doesn’t know if she will come to her own party.

– 15h34: I don’t want to copy but I also have a headache. Luckily, I know what I’m going to wear tonight otherwise I wouldn’t be overconfident. Meeting your public is already super stressful, thus without THE little black dress, no way.

– 16h00: I’m not sure there will be a speech but in doubt I prepare a small one. Whatever I say, don’t forget anyone during the thank-you part.

– 16h12: I’m afraid I won’t know what to write on my books when I’ll have to sign them.

– 16h16: I call the man to tell him I’m scared by the autographs and also to meet my public.

– 16h18: The man reminds me my book is not out yet.

– 16h23: It’s crazy how male jealousy can make them mean.

– 16h30: I hope it won’t be too crazy. Becoming a star is very psychologically perturbing. But I owe my public everything, thus I’m willing to throw myself with all my might in the crowd.

– 16h45: Now normally I should start getting ready. But I know exactly what I’m going to wear, so I’m zen. I’m going to watch an episode of Desperate Housewives to relax. I must be very calm to meet my public.

– 17h30: Off I go, I’m going to put my magic dress on, a touch of Terracotta and I’m ready for the show.

– 17h45: I’ve LOST my black dress.

– 17h47: It’s crazy, I’ve looked everywhere.

– 17h48: I cancel everything. So long my public.

– 17h49: I want to die.

– 17h52: The man says I can wear something else.

– 18h00: I have NOTHING else. Moreover, I can’t fit in my jeans for the past three day. Because of period hormones. And M&M’s too maybe. And WHO bought M&M’s? Right? Yeah. Exactly.

– 18h04: The man says I can very well wear an overall he doesn’t give a shit.

– 18h08: I do him a concession over the phone to sort things out. Right, I’m ready for anything. That’s it, a Caro without her laser saber, is like a Sego without her Francois (yeah, I know, it’s a subliminal message. Even wearing an overall, I’m left-wing)

– 18h12: Girls tell me to put on my green tunic.

– 18h14: It’s in the laundry.

– 18h16: I’m going to meet my public with a green tunic which smells like panties.

– 18h19: I extract my green tunic from the laundry bag. That’s weird, there’s a black rag wrapped up around the belt.

– 18h23: “Girls, no panic, found the dress. All is fine it was in the man’s closet. The bastard.”

– 18h27: I know that’s not nice but I’d rather die than admit I’m going to Ginette’s to make love to my public with a dress that has been rotting for ten days at the bottom of the laundry bag with socks and underwear. Anyway, Febreze will help.

– 18h30: I’m out of Febreze.

– 18h33: I spray half of my perfume on my dress and iron it.

– 18h38: That’s great, Chance by Chanel and old sock give something like tartiflette[1] smell. I’m pushing my luck tonight.

– 18h40: I’m so nervous I drop my TerraCotta. I have to wipe the brush on the tiles to be able to finish my makeup.

– 18h46: I’m going to meet my public in the best possible conditions.

That’s it, the start was not very easy, but the rest of the event unfolded as if I were floating. I didn’t see all of you, neither did I speak to everyone but I loved meeting ClaireMM, Karine, Sofiso, Fanny, Dola, Yasmina, Laurenn, Annelise, Lilo, Delphine, La fée Daubette, Estelle, Lili, LN75, Lovepink, Marion, PetiteLouise and so on. Please forget my oversights, I had a lot to drink even if we swore not to drink and behave. You were handsome and pretty, you were exactly as I wanted you to be. I read somewhere else that nice souls were there and I don’t see what to add.

There you go, I don’t know if I deserved all that warmth but I don’t care, I learn as I’m getting older to take what I’m given and enjoy, enjoy, enjoy…

Edit: If you agree, we’ll do it again on the 25th of April. Same place, same cause, same punishment. And this time I’ll be able to sign autographs because my book will be out… YEAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!

Edit (2): to all my friends from before the blog, thank you for being there. I care for these things.

Edit (3): I forgot but Esme was there too. And truly, I feel bad not to have mentioned her when I was truly, truly happy to see her, this charming and sweet young girl. Do you forgive me?

Edit (4): here’s the proof of alcohol’s ravages. Joelle. Joelle was here. And forgetting her is in itself the proof I should NEVER drink again. Never EVER. Joelle, I meant everything I said, even if I was probably thrilled by Champagne. You have to keep doing those interviews.

[1] TN: sort of potato bake made with ‘reblochon’, a strong smelling cheese from the Alps.

Another five minutes and then I stop… The End

Well, to tell you the rest of the story, I won’t make a ‘Minute by minute’ because for the past four years, nothing, nada, not even one cigarette. So a ‘Minute by minute’ to describe four years… you’ll have to admit it will be slightly tedious.
So let’s say, higgledy-piggledy, in the days that followed me stopping smoking, I first thought I could manage without a patch. Until the day I wanted to smoke a spring roll. Then I realised a bit of help wouldn’t be superfluous
Besides, I have of course recovered taste. I wish not to such an extent… of putting on 10 kilos in 10 months.
My skin indeed looks younger.
14 years old to be precise.
Pimples included.
I quarreled with half of my relatives, mainly smokers of course whom I reproached for having no will, for being no more no less than losers and putting my life in danger.
I refused all evening outings because without ciggies nothing seemed worth it.
I stopped drinking coffee because it reminds me of cigarette.
I stopped drinking alcohol for the same reasons.
I finally decided to start drinking alcohol again to forget I wasn’t drinking coffee anymore. I noticed after a certain number of drinks you don’t remember you want a cigarette.
I realised that because of my dawning alcoholism my complexion was sallower than when I used to smoke. Blackheads as bonuses.
I was allergic to patches so I had to change its spot every day. It made me use original parts of my body.
I had a red circle on the right butt for one month.
I became addicted to nicotine chewing-gums which are yet the most disgusting thing on earth. Worse than Smecta, that’s something.
I finally gave up on gums thanks to Tic-Tac.
I gave up on Tic-Tac thanks to Kiss-Cool.
I gave up Kiss-Cool with ‘Orange and Mint’ Ricola,
I gave up on sugar free sweets because of stomach disorder I wouldn’t wish to my worst enemy.
I wrote to the inventor of aspartame to ask him why Kiss Cools make your farts so smelly.
I spent whole evenings explaining that I didn’t miss cigarette to people who visibly didn’t give a damn.
I learnt to wait for five minutes for the desire to go.
Still today, it seems the five minutes are not over.
I’ve been happy on Sunday night to be out of cigarette and not to have to cross Paris to find some. I don’t even notice it’s Sunday and I don’t have cigarettes.
I don’t smell like tobacco anymore.
I’m not afraid to have a bad breath anymore.
I manage to lie in the sun on the beach with one of my favorite song in my ears without carving for a smoke.
I finally understood I can enjoy a moment without lighting a cigarette.
I started chocolate.
I hope there will never be a doctor to decree that you can die from second-hand cocoa.

<img align=”left” alt=”” class=”at-xid-6a0115701061b3970c011570d29c57970c” hspace=”5″ src=”” />

Another five minutes and then I stop

Yesterday, Raphaelle asked me how I managed to stop smoking. Thus I thought I could tell you. Because after all, we can still laugh from this, can’t we?

It was a 31st of December, four years ago…

– 20h: I’m about to live my last evening as a smoker. I’m super proud I made that decision; already I feel really good, it’s incredible. So long dictatorship. Vade retro my dependence. Tonight, I’ll be free again.

– 20h02: Fuck, where are my fags?

– 20h05: Up to midnight, actually, I don’t mind my liberty. I could decide to end it right now, but no, I’m keen on the New Year’s symbol.

– 20h06: I have only ten cigarettes in my packet, it’s not enough. Especially as they are my lasts, just watch me! I pop to the shop and buy a carton.

– 20h10: A carton might be too much. But if I’m frustrated tonight, for sure I’ll start again tomorrow.

– 21h03: I haven’t smoked for twenty minutes and I don’t give a damn. Tomorrow will be a piece of cake. I wonder why I bought patches which cost an arm and are not even nice. When you have as much will power as I have, no need for those crouches.

– 21h05: Three euros per packet times 365, I’ll indulge in so many little pleasures… I love it already. When I think I waste almost 1000 euros per years for my coffin’s nails, I’m dismayed by my stupidity. When it’s child’s play to stop. Honestly, it’s good I’m aware of it now. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the Spa in Meurice hotel to celebrate.

– 21h12: If I find the bitch who stole my packet, I kill her. Doing this to me while I’m in a stopping stage, it’s mean.

– 23h00: One hour from now I’ll be giving myself a new chance to live old. I find it great. Already when I check in the mirror, I find my complexion lighter. It’s crazy. The only thought of stopping makes me a new woman. Moreover when I see this poor Sophie who smokes like a chimney, I feel sorry.

– 23h14: I feel sorry for her but tomorrow she won’t have three extra kilos. Whereas I already crave sugar. I’m going to smoke three fags in a row in order to put me off my food for now.

– 23h55: Five minutes. It’s the time I need to have a smoke. On the other hand, the party’s so awesome I almost don’t feel like lighting it. It’s amazing how much I love these people. They are beautiful I find. Great, ‘Like a Virgin’ is playing. I’ll be a nicotine virgin soon, so class. Honestly, I can totally dance on Madonna’s songs without smoking.

– 23h56: I can but I won’t.

– 00h00: Happy New Year. Long live liberty.

– 00h01: I’m bored.

– 00h10: I’ve never spent such a crappy New Year’s eve party. No atmosphere. And it’s full of disrespectful people who smoke right under my noise. If you can recognise your true friends during this kind of moments, it’s scary…

– 00h12: Good news is I’m not carving for a smoke at all. Since 22h00 I smoked 34 cigarettes. I read it’s very efficient to disgust yourself for LIFE.

– 01h12: 34 were not enough or, in my world, ‘for LIFE’, means one hour.

– 02h12: No one wants to slip me a cigarette. I shouldn’t have annoyed everyone for the past two weeks with the fact that I was planning to stop at midnight. They made it their business, too bad.

– 03h14: It’s incredible, I’m out of talking point. It looks as if my legendary come-back was hidden in my Lucky Strike. Actually, I’m a dull and sad girl. I want to be the old me again the one who knew how to party and was funny.

– 03h18: Can’t that bitch of Madonna just shut up? I can’t stand her voice anymore.

– 04h34: I don’t understand I apply all advice from the book how to stop smoking without suffering. Each time I feel like having a ciggy, I have a drink. And well the more time passes, the more I feel like it.

– 05h56: Maybe the guy from the book meant drink water.

– 06h02: Stopping smoking sucks, I puked all my whisky.

– 06h12: The man warns me he prefers to live with a smoker than with Sue Ellen

To be continued…