They never tell you the one bad part about not smoking: you lose an escape clause.
At no point when the pressure of the pregnancy get to me am I allowed to tell Bec, "I'm going down to the corner to buy a pack of cigarettes." Which of course is code for, "See if you can find me when I split for Brazil!"
She'll know I'm trying to flee and will lock the door before my Lucky Strike lie can catch fire.
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