Post One Hundred Sixty Five: Dipping
Back in college, I acquired a habit that I have quit many times but keep coming back to: dipping.
It's not particularly attractive, not particularly healthy, and I'm not particularly proud of it, but after 18 years of jumping on and off the Skoal bandwagon I am almost ready to resign myself to the fact that I'm probably going to keep going back to it.
Why do I do it? Nowadays, I primarily pick it back up when my wife leaves town on one of her trips out of the country. It serves as a stress-reliever during these two-week stretches when I'm not able to get to the gym due to childcare issues. And I have to say, after a meal, after the digestive juices have gotten going, and after the kids go to bed, it's kind of soothing. It breaks the tension.
Not to mention dealing with the stress of my job. A lot of attorneys my age dip, and if we get the right group together at a deposition or mediation, out come the cans. It's kind of a bonding thing. Right.
I remember growing up and ALL of my male cousins dipped. Both sides of the family. Personally, I wouldn't touch the stuff. Not only would my parents have flipped out but I remember reading stories in Reader's Digest about baseball players whose jaws rotted out. Ugh. Therefore, I was convinced that the first time I took a dip my jaw would be instantly riddled with tumors. Yeah, I was something of a hypochondriac back then.
All that said, college came around and I'm off on a road trip with my pledge class and two of my fraternity brothers are sitting in the front seat, both with dips in. I'm in the backseat, bored (it was a long trip), and I ask what exactly it was that snuff did for them? "Aw, it's just a little buzz," they explained. Well, I couldn't drink in the car and Mexico was hours away, so I bit. They offered up a can and I took a dip. I sat there with a pinch in my mouth, complaining about the lack of an effect. Comedians that they are, they just encouraged me to pack a bit more in.
Well, we reach a stop and I get out of the car with a MONSTER dip in and instantly I'm thrown off balance by my first nicotine buzz. And I was pretty much hooked. Since this time I have quit hundreds of times (a very easy thing to do, paraphrasing Mark Twain) only to be lured back by a cheap can.
I rationalize it a lot: it's not going to kill me because it's excessive drinking that causes oral cancer (I've actually read studies so I've almost convinced myself of that). I go through cans really slowly (which is true compared to a lot of guys I know). I only do it occasionally, and never around my wife and kids (well, at least not in front of them). And I take really good care of my teeth (floss once a day, brush twice).
Regardless, I'm just treating this post as a kind of confession. But at least I'm not smoking: you can kill other people with that shit.
It's not particularly attractive, not particularly healthy, and I'm not particularly proud of it, but after 18 years of jumping on and off the Skoal bandwagon I am almost ready to resign myself to the fact that I'm probably going to keep going back to it.
Why do I do it? Nowadays, I primarily pick it back up when my wife leaves town on one of her trips out of the country. It serves as a stress-reliever during these two-week stretches when I'm not able to get to the gym due to childcare issues. And I have to say, after a meal, after the digestive juices have gotten going, and after the kids go to bed, it's kind of soothing. It breaks the tension.
Not to mention dealing with the stress of my job. A lot of attorneys my age dip, and if we get the right group together at a deposition or mediation, out come the cans. It's kind of a bonding thing. Right.
I remember growing up and ALL of my male cousins dipped. Both sides of the family. Personally, I wouldn't touch the stuff. Not only would my parents have flipped out but I remember reading stories in Reader's Digest about baseball players whose jaws rotted out. Ugh. Therefore, I was convinced that the first time I took a dip my jaw would be instantly riddled with tumors. Yeah, I was something of a hypochondriac back then.
All that said, college came around and I'm off on a road trip with my pledge class and two of my fraternity brothers are sitting in the front seat, both with dips in. I'm in the backseat, bored (it was a long trip), and I ask what exactly it was that snuff did for them? "Aw, it's just a little buzz," they explained. Well, I couldn't drink in the car and Mexico was hours away, so I bit. They offered up a can and I took a dip. I sat there with a pinch in my mouth, complaining about the lack of an effect. Comedians that they are, they just encouraged me to pack a bit more in.
Well, we reach a stop and I get out of the car with a MONSTER dip in and instantly I'm thrown off balance by my first nicotine buzz. And I was pretty much hooked. Since this time I have quit hundreds of times (a very easy thing to do, paraphrasing Mark Twain) only to be lured back by a cheap can.
I rationalize it a lot: it's not going to kill me because it's excessive drinking that causes oral cancer (I've actually read studies so I've almost convinced myself of that). I go through cans really slowly (which is true compared to a lot of guys I know). I only do it occasionally, and never around my wife and kids (well, at least not in front of them). And I take really good care of my teeth (floss once a day, brush twice).
Regardless, I'm just treating this post as a kind of confession. But at least I'm not smoking: you can kill other people with that shit.
posted by Juggernaut at
12:22 PM
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