My mom started smoking in either late high school or college. <background note- physically and emotionally abusive mother she had, father often not there...the mother - my mom's mom- usually told my mother to take her younger sister and "get out, I wish you'd never been born...." > no maternal guidance on most matters for my mom. I never met my maternal grandmother
so-
my mom smoked til regularly and heavily til she had me, at about 40 or 41. She was actually advised by co-workers at the time, to stop smoking, when the co-workers found out after a while that she was carrying me <and I was a surprise, they'd given up>. After I was born she returned to smoking.
Many of my parent's adult friends smoked at the time, and some of my closest childhood friends - their parents owned a bar and drank and smoked heavily.
It was something so many people did, it seemed to me. But I really hated that smoke/smell and kept pressuring my mom to quit. I'd stuff a jacket underneath my bedroom door so the smoke wouldn't come in so much, and have my bedroom window open most of the time. When I got older enough to do this, I put these "dangers of smoking" brochures around the house. One day, my mom fell asleep on the couch with a cig; I was maybe 10 or 11. She burned a hole in the couch. Sometime after that, she quit, cold turkey- she just -stopped.
I never saw her smoke again, never smelled it, she threw out all the ash trays and stuff.