The first step is admitting you have a problem.
I didn't realized how addicted I was to something until I ran out of it the other day.
I was driving to work and out of habit, I reached into the cubbyhole between the seats in my vehicle. I grasped the familiar tube and twisted off the top. Without giving it a second thought I puckered my lips and brought the tube to meet my gentle kiss.
A rough, almost sharp edge is what I felt instead of the smooth brush of oils and lanolin. I couldn't believe it! How could this happen? What was I going to do?
My heartbeat quickened. Fear and panic arouse in my chest. Could it be? Could I really be out of chapstick? NNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
I couldn't get to work fast enough. I knew I had a tube of it at my desk. I practically ran; I was so dry, so parched... my lips were crying out for some relief. The Sahara Desert at least has an occasional oasis. These... things... on my face were dry and needed relief. Sandpaper was smoother than these dried out crusty projections!
Again my fingers felt the solid tube; I caught a whiff of the familiar scent. I licked my lips in anticipation and slightly puckered. My kiss was returned with a soft touch... as soft as silk. It lingered there, my body savoring the moment. A slight back and forth motion across my lower lip sent chills up my spine. I pulled my lips in, moved them back and forth and only then did I relax. A few light brush strokes across my upper lip and a small amount in the corners of my mouth brought a smile to my face. I again had moistness where once there was just a barren landscape.
I brought my fingertip to my lips for one final stroke which ended the ritual and my heart was glad. It then hit me. I was addicted.
How long have I been like this? How many times has someone watched me go through this ritual? How often has a friend seen my getting me getting my fix, said nothing and just walked away, shaking their head saying: "that guy is sure addicted to that stuff!"
I put the tube down. I moved it away out of my sight. I vowed to not look at it again. No matter how dry my lips became I would beat this addiction. I got busy with the activities of the day without even thinking about my now soft and supple lips. It wasn't until I came back from lunch when, out of habit, I reached for the tube of evil once again.
"No!" I told myself, "I wasn't going to do this again". But... my lips ached for some relief. "OK, just one more time. I swear I'll quit tomorrow." I thought. Really I will.
On the way home as I stopped at the grocery store, there it was... a brand new tube, conveniently placed right at the checkout stand. I quietly slipped one onto the conveyor belt and watched as the cashier rang up my items. I lost sight of it as she slipped it into the bag. I tried not to panic for I knew I would find it again once I got into the privacy of my own vehicle and behind tinted windows.
Even as I'm writing this I feel my lips cry out for moisture. They're parched and cracked and no one will know. Excuse me while I go out to get my fix.