I love meat. Duh. That’s the title of this article. No, this is not a metaphor for something, (get your minds out of the gutter) nor is this some sort of deep attempt at being creative. It means exactly what it says. I love meat. I love bacon, marinated ribs, bbq chicken, bacon, country fried chicken, buffalo wings, jerky, bacon... did I mention that I love bacon? You get the point. You might ask yourself why this information is relevant at all, and I’m about to tell you.
I am 25 years old. I began to have health problems when I was 18 and noticed that I was gaining weight faster than I could eat a dressing-free salad. My joints began hurting so badly that my 3 hour workouts turned into 0 hour workouts and I had to hang up my high heels for an ugly pair of shape-up shoes if I wanted to stand or walk for more than 10 minutes. I had a million other problems that I won’t bore you with, but the point is, I was on an ugly train, speeding recklessly towards a wheelchair and obesity. There seemed to be nothing that I could do. I tried EVERYTHING to put the breaks on and nothing helped at all. I only got worse. What does this have to do with meat? Everything. I stopped eating it.
It’s time for the V word. Vegan. Nope, not even vegetarian. When I do something, I do it right. One day I decided that a major thing I hadn’t attempted for any period of time, was going vegan. Yes, all of the health books that I’d read up to that point had of course urged me to take the plunge into vegetables, but it went through one ear and out the other. I love meat. I was one of those people who said “I could never give up meat. Besides... I need my protein!” Had I ever actually done extensive research on how much of what type of protein my body needed? No. Of course not. Who does? I’d just heard it enough times that I believed it. Mostly because I wanted to believe it. Finally, I got to the point where I’d read enough information and done enough cleanses, that I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Ignorance truly is bliss. I couldn’t erase the information that I’d taken in. Vegan was the way to go.
Like anything, I assumed I would try it out for about 6 months and when I didn’t feel better (I never do) I would stop and say at least I gave it a shot. No meat, dairy, or eggs. Period. I made it to the holidays, then binged on turkey and buttery mashed potatoes and anything else that I thought I “deserved”. Then I gained a million pounds in a week and felt like total shit. Ignorance is bliss. It was so obvious that I felt better eating vegan that it was like a slap in my stubborn face. Ouch. By the way, I was the only vegan ever who didn’t lose weight immediately. I was a fat vegan. That was annoying.
People didn’t believe me that I was eating healthy, but hey, what’s new right? I can’t count how many times I was surviving off of lettuce and plain oatmeal and had people say “well, maybe if you’d write down what you’re eating, you’ll find you eat more than you think!” or “maybe you don’t realize what a true portion size is! Do you ever read the label of the food you eat? Sometimes there are 3 servings when you think it’s only one!” Ugh. Do me a favor and if you have a fat friend, spare them these words. They’re fat. Not stupid. Don’t insult their intelligence with obvious statements. The point of going vegan wasn’t to get skinny anyway. It was to get healthy. I wanted to be able to exercise again... to have an immune system that actually worked instead of being sick every five seconds. I didn’t want it to hurt to touch me or to walk, bike, or swim. Basically, I wanted normal, average health so that I could live life to the best of my ability instead of being held back. Is that so much to ask?
Perfect vegan. Initially. After the first Holiday setback, I was hard on myself. Finally, I found a balance that works for me. I added fish back in... mostly so that I’m not a pain in the ass if I go on a date with someone. Lets be real. Then, I decided that cheating once in a while on a bite of this and a taste of that, was the only way to keep this food lover from going off the deep end. It’s now been two years. I cheat here and there and I eat fish occasionally, but I never thought this would be my lifestyle. I LOVE MEAT. I also love feeling good. And now that I’m not eating the cute little animals that I so love, I feel less guilty and can finally face the information about it that I’ve purposely been avoiding. Plus, it helps keep me from eating it. Ignorance really is bliss.
I can’t undo what I now know about meat. As you know, I’m not someone who was born vegetarian or ever thought I’d be one, so if you eat meat, you might be just like I was. I knew I didn’t want to see a hot dog factory. Ever. Duh... I ate hot dogs! I knew I’d never be able to eat them again. I still have no desire to see that nasty stuff, but I did learn a lot of interesting info that hit me just as hard. For example (this isn’t gross! Don’t look away!) If all the grain currently fed to livestock in the United States were consumed directly by people, the number of people who could be fed would be nearly 800 million, or, if those grains were exported, it would boost the U.S. trade balance by $80 billion a year. World hunger anyone? Grain-fed beef production takes 100,000 liters of water for every kilogram of food. Water shortage anyone? Forget taking a shower! Go veg for a couple days. This kind of thing blows my mind and it should blow yours too. I don’t care if you love meat. Use your brain. That’s what I’m trying to do but I’m sure it wouldn’t shock you if I said that most people treat me like I’m an idiot for being vegan.
Not gonna lie. I didn’t just go vegan, I did cleanses up the ass (sometimes literally although we won’t go there...) and every kind of detox from heavy metals to gallstones. I did juice fasts and apple cider vinegar concoctions. I told you, when I go for it, I go for it. The point is... none of that stuff did anything until I went vegan. My metabolism, after two years of vegan eating, is FINALLY starting to act like a normal persons. I’ve gradually lost weight and don’t feel as trapped in my own body. I’m not cured, but I’m better. I don’t even want to imagine where I’d be right now if I hadn’t made the switch. I love meat, as I’m sure most of you do too, but I also love living.
This brings me to the conclusion of my rant. Ever met anyone who’s vegan? Vegetarian? Probably. You may have asked them “Do you do that for health or for spiritual purposes?” Like there’s a right answer. In my case it was health. Obviously. Try from here on out to think of vegans as recovering meataholics. For some reason everyone has the desire to try to break my healthy new habits but I think that if people were to realize that I want to eat it, but it kills me to have it, they would change their attitudes. Would you really encourage a recovering alcoholic friend to have a drink? Come on. Figure it out people. I love meat, but I love life more.
