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Believe it or not, I was once a vegetarian. For approximately 9 months. If memory serves me accurately, it was my sophmore year in high school. Right after spending part of the summer with my youngest aunt who I adored, and who had lost almost 100 pounds by eliminating meat and most sugar from her diet. It was medically necessary for her to lose that much, because she was diagnosed with diabetes and hypertension and being very overweight. She eventually gained much of it back and is still a large woman, but she's a healthy large woman. Yes, it's possible and common and sexy and great and for more information read Hanne Blank's Big Big Love, but I'm not here to talk about books.
She first taught me about vegetarianism as a health option. I was interested in losing weight as well, because who wasn't in this compulsory society? So I decided to be vegetarian. Unfortunately, I didn't like many vegetables. I liked plenty of protein sources, like legumes, which I used to consider vegetables next to regular meat, but learned that things not leafy and green didn't count as much. I tried eating more fruit, with only minor success. I then added chicken and fish to my diet and avoided red meat, though not religiously, and probably had the occasionaly Fourth of July picnic hamburger. This lasted through high school, even with one of my friends, Karen (one of many many Karen's, though not one I was in love with) who was rigidly vegetarian and horribly anorexic.
In college, my roommate was vegetarian. And had an eating disorder. My friends and next-door neighbors were quasi-vegetarian, loosely on health, loosely on politics. One of them eventually stopped claiming to be one, and just didn't eat much meat. I started to eat meat on their behalf.
I never pondered about my dietary habits again, until I started dating my last gf, K, halfway through my senior year of college. She was vegetarian. And was also prone to bad-tasting lowfat and nonfat alternatives to food. She also had a best friend who was in love with a book linking feminism to vegetarianism and how eating meat was mysogynist. I don't know either. I told her that I agreed that meat is bad for the environment and not cost-effective and not as healthy etc. etc. but that I would be more likely to devise a plan to sterilize every cow in the world rather than not buy the steak in the grocery store, seeing as it's already dead and all, and I enjoyed preparing and consuming it. I felt like, if meat-eating stopped, what would we do with the milllions of domesticated animals we've bred to have no instincts? They'd die in the wild anyway, so might as well enjoy one last steak before we bid a fond farewell to the era of eating meat. I also used to frame arguments against K and the BF about the class and cultural implications of vegetarianism. They were always perplexed by my ability to agree that I thought everything they said was correct, but that I was still not "on their side". I tried to explain it's because I had additional information which enabled me to make a choice, and I'm not even saying my choice is correct, I'm just saying it's the one I'm making right now.
Today for lunch I have a sandwich on potato bread with vienna roast beef from the grocery store deli. I was attracted to the large portion of meat because of it's redness. It's so rare and tender it barely survived the meat shaving process. I'm anticipating it melting in my mouth and blending wonderfully with the spicy brown mustard.
It's a luxury. I understand and appreciate it. I also understand the process it undergoes to meet my mouth. I usually know WHAT part of a cow or pig is being consumed based on the name on the package. And I usually prefer getting hormone-free, antibiotic-free, free range animals, because I'm a hypochondriac and I don't like chemicals (also part of my aversion to lowfat, nonfat foods) but also because it tastes better. I won't lie. Slaughterhouses are pretty disgusting, but then again so are most factories and those involve human sacrifices. Anything in bulk, as a general rule, is gross.
Before I hated the Frugal Gourment because he got arrested for child molestation (though I suppose that could be an urban legend that pops up around a cancelled PBS chef), I liked that he talked about thanking the animal for giving itself for our enjoyment.
When I die, people can eat me. I find the idea rather romantic.
She first taught me about vegetarianism as a health option. I was interested in losing weight as well, because who wasn't in this compulsory society? So I decided to be vegetarian. Unfortunately, I didn't like many vegetables. I liked plenty of protein sources, like legumes, which I used to consider vegetables next to regular meat, but learned that things not leafy and green didn't count as much. I tried eating more fruit, with only minor success. I then added chicken and fish to my diet and avoided red meat, though not religiously, and probably had the occasionaly Fourth of July picnic hamburger. This lasted through high school, even with one of my friends, Karen (one of many many Karen's, though not one I was in love with) who was rigidly vegetarian and horribly anorexic.
In college, my roommate was vegetarian. And had an eating disorder. My friends and next-door neighbors were quasi-vegetarian, loosely on health, loosely on politics. One of them eventually stopped claiming to be one, and just didn't eat much meat. I started to eat meat on their behalf.
I never pondered about my dietary habits again, until I started dating my last gf, K, halfway through my senior year of college. She was vegetarian. And was also prone to bad-tasting lowfat and nonfat alternatives to food. She also had a best friend who was in love with a book linking feminism to vegetarianism and how eating meat was mysogynist. I don't know either. I told her that I agreed that meat is bad for the environment and not cost-effective and not as healthy etc. etc. but that I would be more likely to devise a plan to sterilize every cow in the world rather than not buy the steak in the grocery store, seeing as it's already dead and all, and I enjoyed preparing and consuming it. I felt like, if meat-eating stopped, what would we do with the milllions of domesticated animals we've bred to have no instincts? They'd die in the wild anyway, so might as well enjoy one last steak before we bid a fond farewell to the era of eating meat. I also used to frame arguments against K and the BF about the class and cultural implications of vegetarianism. They were always perplexed by my ability to agree that I thought everything they said was correct, but that I was still not "on their side". I tried to explain it's because I had additional information which enabled me to make a choice, and I'm not even saying my choice is correct, I'm just saying it's the one I'm making right now.
Today for lunch I have a sandwich on potato bread with vienna roast beef from the grocery store deli. I was attracted to the large portion of meat because of it's redness. It's so rare and tender it barely survived the meat shaving process. I'm anticipating it melting in my mouth and blending wonderfully with the spicy brown mustard.
It's a luxury. I understand and appreciate it. I also understand the process it undergoes to meet my mouth. I usually know WHAT part of a cow or pig is being consumed based on the name on the package. And I usually prefer getting hormone-free, antibiotic-free, free range animals, because I'm a hypochondriac and I don't like chemicals (also part of my aversion to lowfat, nonfat foods) but also because it tastes better. I won't lie. Slaughterhouses are pretty disgusting, but then again so are most factories and those involve human sacrifices. Anything in bulk, as a general rule, is gross.
Before I hated the Frugal Gourment because he got arrested for child molestation (though I suppose that could be an urban legend that pops up around a cancelled PBS chef), I liked that he talked about thanking the animal for giving itself for our enjoyment.
When I die, people can eat me. I find the idea rather romantic.
