I Hate Chewing Gum--An essay

I hate chewing gum. Not as in 'I hate chewing gum, but enjoy bubble gum.' As in the physical act of chewing said gum. This is particularly strange because when I was a callow youth in junior high school and high school I subsisted on a steady diet of gum, angst-filled poetry and hopeless crushes. My brain was hard-wired for gum-chewing and endorphins were released with every snap and crack. Those were heady times, trying to decide between Juicy Fruit or Trident. It was like heroin for teenagers. Of course now heroin is like heroin for teenagers, but those were the salad days. Gum was chewed gratuitously by 15 year-olds with their mouths hanging open and too much eye-makeup. The smack-smack-smack of lips was neccessary and all the world became intimate with the inside o your mouth.
Then college came and disrupted things by introducing cigarettes into the mix and a piece of gum has not crossed my lips since. It was a strange coming-of-age.
Here I am, 7 years later, 7 years removed from my tumultuous days of gum-chewing. I'm doing battle with the gods of tobacco and in my war I have returned to the fold. I have hurled myself on Trident's mercy and begged for forgiveness, pleaded for assistance in this, my time of need. I have been granted gum-chewing privellges again.
The bitter irony to all of this is that somehow, the mechanics of my jaw have changed. I refuse to chew gum with my mouth open. I'm too old to snap it or blow bubbles and now it just makes my jaw ache. I look absolutely foolish chewing gum. Somehow, chewing gum began to suck.

Maybe I'm not wearing enough eye-makeup.