Sometimes you just... you know that feeling when you're preaching "gut health and movement is medicine" all day, every day, smiling like a damn toothpaste ad, and all you can think about is that sweet, sweet nicotine hit? Yeah. That. It started, like most bad habits, with stress. Freelance life, am I right? One month you're booked solid, got those reformer Pilates classes filling up, clients asking for private sessions, feeling like a fitness guru. Next month? Crickets. You're hustling for those gig apps, praying someone wants a HIIT class at 6 AM. The rent isn't paying itself, your "benefits" are whatever cheap vitamins you can snag on sale, and suddenly that innocent "just one puff" from a friend's vape turns into... this. A secret life. You find yourself doing mental gymnastics worthy of a Cirque du Soleil performer. "Just after my last client." "No one's around the back of the studio." "This won't affect my VO2 max, it's just a quick one." And then the smell. Oh God, the smell. You become a connoisseur of breath mints, hand sanitizer, and those tiny travel-size body sprays. "Did you smell that?" "Oh, probably just the street art guys out back, they're always..." *trails off*. It's a performance. A full-on Oscar-worthy performance, every damn day. And the irony? It's rich. Like, a whole box of expensive chocolates rich. I'm telling people to "honor their body," to "fuel their temples," to "breathe deeply." Meanwhile, I'm hunched over, trying to flick a lighter in a gust of wind, feeling like a teenager sneaking out. My clients look at me with such ADMIRATION. "You're such an inspiration!" they say, as I inwardly wince, thinking about the Marlboro Light I just snuffed out with my expensive Nikes. La vie est belle, non? It's not even enjoyable anymore, not really. More like... a quick escape. A two-minute mental vacation from the constant pressure to be Perfect Instructor Person. The taste is kinda bleh, the cough is getting worse, and the guilt? Oh, the guilt is a regular attendee at this pity party. But then another cancellation comes in, or an invoice is late, or you realize you haven't had a proper meal all day because you're saving for that new certification... and suddenly, that craving is back. A little hit of self-destruction, just to feel *something*. Maybe tomorrow I'll quit. Maybe. After this one.