Come this April, I will not have eaten meat in two years. It’s been an interesting ride. Currently, I am a vegetarian. I eat eggs and dairy, but no meat or seafood. But when I began, I was a vegan.
I was seventeen and immersed in a weird, disordered eating pattern. I was working at Panera Bread with this boy I was in love with. He was thin, beautiful (gay, as I learned) and vegan. One day in April, the 29th I think, I ate a chicken sandwich at night and the next morning I switched to a plant based diet. Was it for the “wrong” reasons? Maybe. I did it for the boy. I wanted to be skinny, that endless American goal, and it was so much easier to refuse dangerous food because “I’m a vegan” than “I’m on a diet.” Veganism was just another regimented pattern for me in a long line of troubled eating.
I brushed up on the real reasons people go vegan. And I can legitimately say that images of factory farming have stayed with me and turned me off of meat.
It was incredibly isolating. My father could not cook for me, my friends tossed me apples at their house, and I had to do my own grocery shopping. There were times I took my veganism to extreme heights- I cut wheat and carbs out of my diet now and then. I would eat nothing but fruits, vegetables, and tofu/ nuts and run for miles. I became anemic and could not lift my arms over my head. There were times when I my body wanted at the deepest level and I would binge on Oreos and peanut butter. Not after every binge, but once in awhile, I would purge afterwards.
My time with veganism was not all steeped in sickness. I bought cookbooks and learned about food. I made butternut squash and quinoa soup, or balsamic portabella mushrooms inside pita pockets.
After about three and a half months I ended my veganism. My therapist felt it was not constructive. I became a vegetarian and I have been since. Through a combination of will power, yoga, and maybe a dash of therapy (though I have a lot of objections on this subject) I have reached a point of peace with my body and the food that goes into it. I may always be weird, but it is much less pronounced than between ages 12 to 17 (that’s another post for another day when I am feeling very honest and brave).
I do not miss meat. I have distinct memories of what it tastes like, and sometimes I have dreams about eating meat, and that is quite enough for me. I have learned more about factory farming at school and the more I learn the more dedicated to the cause I am. Still, never will I get up on my soapbox and say what other people should eat. It’s not important to me, and if there is one thing my teen years taught me it’s that we are each only in charge of one body. At school a lot of people are vegetarian- we have whole sections in our dining hall and we have our favorite restaurants, like Grasshopper in Allston. I am not unique at all, and I’m very lax about it. If I were dedicated like some kids I would give up eggs (the most harmful industry) and always ask if the Caesar dressing has anchovies in it. But when I go home, it’s a topic. My parents still tease me. Because, you know, “Mishi, how many hamburgers do you want?” never gets old.
When people ask if I will ever stop being a vegetarian I usually say that I will if factory farming stops. Or I say that one day I would like to try seafood again. Still the idea sort of grosses me out. For now and the foreseeable future I will continue being a healthy, not-morally-superior vegetarian with a sweet tooth. I think that vegetables ate the most important, and I eat a lot of fruit, whole grains , Greek yogurt, and almonds. And popcorn. I would like to forget that my current diet evolved from a place of mental anguish and hatred of my physical self, but I cannot deny that it was the case. But who knows, maybe I needed veganism born of sickness to get me where I am now.
