I am a vegetarian. I’ve been a vegetarian for a little over two years. Most people know this and most people ask why. The condensed version… well, I suppose it isn’t really condensed because it’s a short story anyway… is that I read “Skinny Bitch,” wanted to throw up when I read about how animals are treated in slaughter houses and on farms, and that was that. There was one particularly disturbing paragraph about a pig that I can’t even talk about without tearing up and feeling the bile collect in my throat. Just so you understand- I had pulled frozen chicken out of the freezer for dinner on the night I finished the book. Dave came home and I announced, rather dejectedly, “You’re going to have cook that- I don’t eat meat anymore.”
Dejectedly, you ask? Yes. It is very true. I like meat. I miss hamburgers and (even) hot dogs and especially anything that comes from Chick-fil-A. I miss not having to say, “There’s nothing I can eat there,” when Dave wants to go out for dinner. Every day is a struggle. Not a moral struggle, mind you. The women who wrote “Skinny Bitch” did a very good job of making you really connect to the animals- they likened pigs to dogs, saying they nuzzle and beg to be petted. Well, I have two dogs. And even starting to entertain the thought of what happened in that one paragraph in the book happening to one of my dogs… it’s enough to steal my resolve.
But here is where I will reveal my secret hope, my strongest desire, even. When the time comes, if the time comes, when I get knocked up, I pray to God that I will crave meat. Because I will NOT deny my unborn child anything, especially if it comes from Chick-fil-A.
Day 3. Conquered.