Honorary Member
Having stuck to my almost-vegetarian diet for over a month now, by my best calculations (not really sure what the first day was, because I'd already had around a week solid of sort of accidental meatless eating when I decided to make it official), this past week or so I've been publicizing the change a bit.
Incidentally, the "almost" means eggs and seafood are still in, as opposed to only sticking to the new habits when I feel like it — figured I'd ease my way into things that way, and since it's as much for health reasons as anything, I'm not too worried that the fishes of the earth will show up at my door demanding retribution. I also figured I'd be less a burden on my friends and coworkers that way, but more on that later.
Anyway, I'd always found it amusing how the smokers of the world stick together, but that's nothing compared to the vegetarians of the world (perhaps it's survivors' syndrome from trying to live as a vegetarian in Texas — I don't know). People around here I had no idea were vegetarian are suddenly welcoming me into "the club," so to speak. I'm starting to wonder when the card shows up in the mail or when the chickens and cows start sending me thank-you letters.
The downside of all this is the drama.
First off, all the ignorance regarding what constitutes a vegetarian dish, a situation which was once vegetarians' problem, is now my problem. The questions were amusing before, but now they're irksome. And getting a straight answer out of anyone around here regarding whether something is vegetarian or not almost always requires a definition of what is and is not meat in order to generate any kind of useful answer.
Secondly, when said ignorance affects the whole group of "us vegetarians" (a label I'm still not entirely comfortable with, 1. because of the seafood, and 2. because it kind of violates the principle that I'm doing this for me and not for public appearances or anything — one of the reasons I waited a month before telling anyone), I'm expected to grow indignant along with the rest. Example: today at work, we had a mandatory lunch meeting, and lunch was provided. Lunch consisted of a single giant sandwich with roast beef, ham, and turkey on it, along with cheese, lettuce, and all the rest of the typical sandwich stuff (from what I could tell). Not only the vegetarians, but the Atkins' dieters, Hindus (if we still had in this specific group — not sure), Muslims, Jews (kosher-eating ones anyway — I seem to encounter a lot of Jews who don't care these days) were kind of left without a second option. Luckily for me, however, (pats back) I had the foresight to ask ahead of time what was being provided for lunch, so I ran downstairs and ate a yummy salad instead, so I could only halfheartedly gripe along with the others, my hunger having already been adequately sated, not to mention a lot of it seemed like whining to me, as these people have eaten this way far longer than I have, and one would think they'd know to check ahead of time.
I'm not sure which side to take, or if I even need to.
The only gripe I do have about the incident is that we're not allowed to log it as work time since food was provided, negating the need for a lunch break. Um, perhaps that applies to the approximately 50% of people there that could eat the damn thing (and it was a big scary sandwich, too — I think there were plenty of non-meaty-sandwich-agnostics who still steered clear of this hulking beast), but for the rest of us that had to make alternate arrangements, it was a little harsh.
I also found myself caught in the middle of a situation a few days back at dinner with friends. Once again, I'd asked in advance what was on the menu, and hearing that it was bratwurst and kraut, wisely chose to eat something ahead of time. The three strict vegetarians who showed up that night had not. I got to listen to a lot of bitching about bacon in the potato salad and chicken in the rice, when, once again, I didn't really care. Maybe my outlook will change, but I don't think people have an inalienable right to be served a vegetarian meal unless they at least ask for it.
Regardless, on that particular occasion, it became even more complicated when an old friend started arguing with them that chicken broth "doesn't count" as a meat, and that people who say so are just being picky. When he sort of looked at me expecting some backup, maybe, the best I could come up with was, "Okay, so, um, what part of the not-chicken does the broth come from then? I'm not sure where you're going with this."
The good side of it was that later on, when the crowd in the room had thinned somewhat, a mumbled comment was overheard: "So, if I kill a guy, and roast him over a campfire, but only drink the juices that drip out of him, I'm not really a cannibal I guess. Good to know...."
* * *
Incidentally, in case you were wondering, yes, I feel loads better after the switch — I have more energy and feel more alert. Good stuff.
Regarding other potential questions, no I'm not going to start putting "Meat is Murder" bumper stickers on my car or anything (sorry, Morrissey), though, against my original intentions, I can definitely see where people come from. After only a month, a lot of meat dishes already strike me as seeming a little barbaric — maybe it's because there's no longer any "I'd better accept it since it's what's for dinner" rationalization to justify it. Oddly, though, a big juicy steak seems less odd (because hey, it's essentially like saying "Yeah I eat meat. This is dinner. Got any issues with it?") than the little bits of meat used to flavor things, or processed meat products like sausage or lard. I guess eating something because you intend to seems a lot more sincere than eating a salad but deciding it's a little bland, and chopping up a bit of a pig onto it to make it taste better — no dignity for the pig.
Oh well. None of it makes sense, ultimately, and that's why what you eat is not my business, anyway. Don't give me too much of a hard time, and I won't mess with you. Just leave the chicken broth out of my rice, thanks.
Incidentally, the "almost" means eggs and seafood are still in, as opposed to only sticking to the new habits when I feel like it — figured I'd ease my way into things that way, and since it's as much for health reasons as anything, I'm not too worried that the fishes of the earth will show up at my door demanding retribution. I also figured I'd be less a burden on my friends and coworkers that way, but more on that later.
Anyway, I'd always found it amusing how the smokers of the world stick together, but that's nothing compared to the vegetarians of the world (perhaps it's survivors' syndrome from trying to live as a vegetarian in Texas — I don't know). People around here I had no idea were vegetarian are suddenly welcoming me into "the club," so to speak. I'm starting to wonder when the card shows up in the mail or when the chickens and cows start sending me thank-you letters.
The downside of all this is the drama.
First off, all the ignorance regarding what constitutes a vegetarian dish, a situation which was once vegetarians' problem, is now my problem. The questions were amusing before, but now they're irksome. And getting a straight answer out of anyone around here regarding whether something is vegetarian or not almost always requires a definition of what is and is not meat in order to generate any kind of useful answer.
Secondly, when said ignorance affects the whole group of "us vegetarians" (a label I'm still not entirely comfortable with, 1. because of the seafood, and 2. because it kind of violates the principle that I'm doing this for me and not for public appearances or anything — one of the reasons I waited a month before telling anyone), I'm expected to grow indignant along with the rest. Example: today at work, we had a mandatory lunch meeting, and lunch was provided. Lunch consisted of a single giant sandwich with roast beef, ham, and turkey on it, along with cheese, lettuce, and all the rest of the typical sandwich stuff (from what I could tell). Not only the vegetarians, but the Atkins' dieters, Hindus (if we still had in this specific group — not sure), Muslims, Jews (kosher-eating ones anyway — I seem to encounter a lot of Jews who don't care these days) were kind of left without a second option. Luckily for me, however, (pats back) I had the foresight to ask ahead of time what was being provided for lunch, so I ran downstairs and ate a yummy salad instead, so I could only halfheartedly gripe along with the others, my hunger having already been adequately sated, not to mention a lot of it seemed like whining to me, as these people have eaten this way far longer than I have, and one would think they'd know to check ahead of time.
I'm not sure which side to take, or if I even need to.
The only gripe I do have about the incident is that we're not allowed to log it as work time since food was provided, negating the need for a lunch break. Um, perhaps that applies to the approximately 50% of people there that could eat the damn thing (and it was a big scary sandwich, too — I think there were plenty of non-meaty-sandwich-agnostics who still steered clear of this hulking beast), but for the rest of us that had to make alternate arrangements, it was a little harsh.
I also found myself caught in the middle of a situation a few days back at dinner with friends. Once again, I'd asked in advance what was on the menu, and hearing that it was bratwurst and kraut, wisely chose to eat something ahead of time. The three strict vegetarians who showed up that night had not. I got to listen to a lot of bitching about bacon in the potato salad and chicken in the rice, when, once again, I didn't really care. Maybe my outlook will change, but I don't think people have an inalienable right to be served a vegetarian meal unless they at least ask for it.
Regardless, on that particular occasion, it became even more complicated when an old friend started arguing with them that chicken broth "doesn't count" as a meat, and that people who say so are just being picky. When he sort of looked at me expecting some backup, maybe, the best I could come up with was, "Okay, so, um, what part of the not-chicken does the broth come from then? I'm not sure where you're going with this."
The good side of it was that later on, when the crowd in the room had thinned somewhat, a mumbled comment was overheard: "So, if I kill a guy, and roast him over a campfire, but only drink the juices that drip out of him, I'm not really a cannibal I guess. Good to know...."
* * *
Incidentally, in case you were wondering, yes, I feel loads better after the switch — I have more energy and feel more alert. Good stuff.
Regarding other potential questions, no I'm not going to start putting "Meat is Murder" bumper stickers on my car or anything (sorry, Morrissey), though, against my original intentions, I can definitely see where people come from. After only a month, a lot of meat dishes already strike me as seeming a little barbaric — maybe it's because there's no longer any "I'd better accept it since it's what's for dinner" rationalization to justify it. Oddly, though, a big juicy steak seems less odd (because hey, it's essentially like saying "Yeah I eat meat. This is dinner. Got any issues with it?") than the little bits of meat used to flavor things, or processed meat products like sausage or lard. I guess eating something because you intend to seems a lot more sincere than eating a salad but deciding it's a little bland, and chopping up a bit of a pig onto it to make it taste better — no dignity for the pig.
Oh well. None of it makes sense, ultimately, and that's why what you eat is not my business, anyway. Don't give me too much of a hard time, and I won't mess with you. Just leave the chicken broth out of my rice, thanks.