It was my second and last time.

The last time I smoked marijuana, I was seventeen years old and at a graduation party with my friends.

  • That was forty years ago and I haven’t touched it since.

Marijuana and I just didn’t mix. All I got was an upset stomach and so dizzy that I couldn’t stand on my own. When they passed the law to legalize recreational marijuana, I was surprised that my husband wanted to go to the dispensary. He had been an avid user of marijuana when I met him. I think it was when our first child was born that he said we needed the money to raise our son, more than he needed marijuana. I couldn’t believe he would just give up so easily, but he did. Our son called to tell him they had passed the law and he was heading to the marijuana dispensary. He was going with our son. I wasn’t as happy about this as he was, but I didn’t say anything. When he got home that afternoon he was in such a giddy mood that I was pretty sure he had already found a marijuana high again. I wasn’t sure I was going to like this side of him again. He was so cheerful when he gave me a small bag of gummies he had brought home. He told me they tasted just like my favorite cherry licorice. I never suspected the gummies were laced with marijuana until an hour later and I felt like my body was floating. I wasn’t nauseous this time, but the dizziness was so familiar that I knew this was not just my second time for marijuana, but it was my last time.

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