The last “true” non-vegetarian meal I had, I can remember almost perfectly. (Quote marks explained later.) End of July, summer of 2007. I was in B.C. with a friend, and after a day of boating, water skiing and just general hanging out, A.’s mom sent him, me and A.’s brother onto the tiny patio of the condo for dinner — salad, potatoes and ribs, which I’m pretty sure A. and E. were comparing to dinosaur or mammoth ribs (yeah, they were big).
At the suggestion of a friend, I picked up some B12 supplement vitamins at the grocery store on my way home from work tonight. Granted, K. has a communications degree like me, not a medical degree, but she’s also vegetarian and I’m not a huge fan of going to the doctor (read: I never, ever, ever go to the doctor unless I’m dying and even at that point it’s a struggle to get me there), so I thought I’d try it.
“I’m not a vegetarian because I love animals. I’m a vegetarian because I hate plants.”
I can’t remember where I read that, I just remember saying it to one of my friends who gives me a hard time about my eating habits because he thinks I don’t get enough protein.
Actually, I’m a vegetarian because I think it’s a healthier way to eat. After nearly five years of no red meat, I still eat a little bit of chicken and fish, but am working on eliminating those too. Continue reading