I’ve become a VEGETARIAN. Again.
When I was 16, I put my mother through more than a year of veggieism, insisting that we both eat no meat. She didn’t miss it. Now she’s doing it to me — although without the insistence, or actually any control over what I eat or don’t (other than that unearthly insight into my subconscious mind that only someone who harboured me for 9 months inside her body should have).
I have no really good reason for doing this. I don’t have a problem with killing animals for food. I wear leather shoes. I know it takes a lot more of the earth’s resources to produce a pound of cow than it does a pound of wheat. But I think that’s OK in moderation. I have no ethical problems with the consumption of meat at all. I like a good rare steak every once in a while.
So why am I doing this?
I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I don’t really LIKE meat anymore. I don’t fancy it, it doesn’t get my appetite all stirred up and doesn’t leave me feeling really good about what I just put in my body after a meal. I stick with the dead animals you feel good about as much as possible (hormone, antibiotic free), but all the meat I eat out is the regular old growth-hormone-full stuff. That bothers me more than anything. That and the feeling I get that the energy, the vibration if you will, of what I’ve just consumed isn’t right for me.
So I’ve decided to give it a trial run and see. I would be a pesco-lacto-ovo vegetarian — eating fish, dairy and egg products, but no meat. It’ll give us something to talk about round the lunch table.