I sometimes think I'm kind of fortunate that Mom smokes. Certainly not while I was unborn—I'm sure that accounts for a lot of what's wrong with me. XD;—but because of it, I grew up strongly resenting smoking, drinking, drugs, and pretty much anything that causes a permanent change in the body. Maybe I'm just scared of not being able to go back, but I've always hated all of that with a passion. o_o; I once threw out an entire carton of her cigarettes when I was little. That...did not make her happy. The sad thing is, I don't think she'd really stop me if I did smoke. She just can't say no to me. Most of the time, that's a good thing. xD; But it'd be awful if I wasn't so self-policing.
I feel the same way as Karli. I abhor the smoke smell, and wish I could convince her to quit. But bringing it up makes her very upset, so I've just learned to let it be. It's sad; I want her to live for a long time, because I'm going to lose her earlier than most lose their mothers since she had me so late in life. Smoking will only hasten that. :\