I’ll be totally honest. Vegans have, for the most part, always made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t question their choices, but I did find that their decision to live a life free of animal products made me examine my own way of life and feel a bit bad about it. I knew deep down that they were doing the right thing, and I also knew I didn’t have the willpower to do it myself. No one likes to feel this way, and while I knew it was my choice, I preferred indulging in a little light snarking to help me feel a little less inadequate. I suppose that means I have more in common with Piers Morgan than I’d like to admit. Yuck.
Here’s another uncomfortable truth: I’m overweight. It’s something I’ve struggled with since my early thirties, and while I have managed to lose some (never enough) of it over the years, I always managed to gain it back, plus a little extra. My latest foray into weight loss has been the blood sugar diet, and while it’s worked brilliantly (I’m down nearly two dress sizes), I know it isn’t sustainable. It’s also a challenge to follow because I don’t eat meat. A high-protein, low carb meal plan isn’t easy, and there are only so many eggs and bits of cheese a person can eat. In my case, the amount is almost none. I just don’t like these things any more.
So I’m now following a whole foods, plant-based diet, and no one is more surprised about it than I am. I say no one, but I’m not sure who that would be. I’ve not really discussed it beyond my immediate family as I figure they need to know why I’m no longer grating cheese for tacos. Someone else can do that if they really want it.
I wouldn’t call myself vegan (I’ve never referred to myself as vegetarian, either – if anyone asked, I just said I didn’t eat meat) because I don’t think the label applies. I’m still wearing the leather shoes I own (I can’t abide waste), and because I keep hens and can vouch for their welfare, I’ll continue to sell (and likely occasionally eat) eggs from our garden.