We are a meat-eating family. Beef, chicken, pork – you name it, we eat it. So the fact that we are about to become vegetarians is like the Pope publicly announcing that he wants to get together with Asa Akira (world famous porn star, in case you didn’t know) for a little “back door fun”.
The idea isn’t new though. My daughter mentioned it about two months ago. “All we have in this damn freezer is meat. It’s seriously gross.” Her best friend Samantha is a vegetarian, hence the attitude. If Samantha made it a habit of shoving boiling hot carrots up her ass, my daughter would want do the same. And no, I don’t have an anal fixation. It just seems that way.
Then today, my husband said something about it again. “Did you read that article I sent to you?” He is always sending me articles. I never read any of them.
“You mean the one about the Mars lander, or the one about egg yolk being as bad for you as smoking?” For someone as smart as he is, he jumps on the proverbial bandwagon a hell of a lot.
“The one about the eggs. And I know you didn’t read it so I’ll just tell you about it.” Please don’t. “Did you know that most North Americans eat about twice as much protein as their bodies actually need. And that eating too much can leach the calcium out of your bones. And that plant-based protein is better than animal-based protein at preventing the build-up of plaque in your arteries.” He is always a wealth of knowledge. I prefer to get my tidbits of information about the world from watching The Bachelorette. Too bad it’s over now. And good for you Emily in finding Jef (with one “f” which is kind of weird and could possibly be a red flag). I hope that the two of you will be very happy together, and that he doesn’t go religious nuts on you the way Tom Cruise did with Katie Holmes.
“Aren’t you a doctor? I thought stuff like that was permanently etched into your brain. How is it that you are just learning about it now?” I walk over to peel the cat off the screen. He is chasing a fly, and knocking shit over everywhere in the house. “Besides, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that eating fruits, vegetables and whole grains is better for you than eating a big juicy steak.”
“Maybe we should become vegetarian then.” I think he is feeling guilty about not exercising as much as he should. He needs to make some effort at keeping himself alive.
“Yeah, I’d do it.” It’s my middle son – for the last year and a half, he’s been obsessed with becoming the “perfect human being” (his words, not mine) and I guess he thinks this will help in the transformation. He also thinks that if a girl doesn’t have Facebook, then she’s gotta be a freak. “Like why else would she be hiding herself from the world?” I don’t have the heart to tell him that HE is the nut job. “But I won’t be able to do this vegetarian thing ALL the time,” he adds. “I still get a few days a week with meat.”
“That’s not being an ACTUAL vegetarian then, is it?” I snort.
“I could be a five-day vegetarian.” He is serious.
“Is that like using condoms when you are having sex with that skanky girlfriend – oops, I mean, that girl you occasionally ‘get with’ – only seventy-five percent of the time? I hope that’s not how you operate, because you are way too immature to be a father.”
“Mom, just stop.” He hates it when I talk about sex. “And who are you calling immature?”
“Well, if the shoe fits…” I murmur, just as the cat knocks over my snake plant. “Jesus. Can someone please kill this damn fly? And you guys gotta remember to shut the fucking door. It’s like a fly sanctuary around here.” I start to scrape the dirt from the plant into a pile with my hand. “Anyway, I guess being a ‘five day vegetarian’ is better than nothing.” It wouldn’t be too hard for me. I already don’t eat much red meat. I’d just have to cut out the chicken. And the fish. And I’ve always said that if I had to kill it myself, I’d never eat any of it. I even saw a show about how plants cry out in pain when you break off their leaves. We just can’t hear them. Maybe I’ll end up having to drink my own urine for sustenance.
“Plus, we still have all that meat in the freezer,” my son says. “You wouldn’t want to waste it.” Suddenly has a conscience. But he’s right. I was just at Costco the other day where I spent about two hundred dollars on chicken and burgers and stuff.
“I guess we’ll start this vegetarian thing next week then.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Let’s do it.”
We all agreed except for my oldest son who wasn’t home at the time to take part in the conversation. He doesn’t cook – he’s too busy trying to be a rock star – so he gets what he gets.
Dear readers, once this new lifestyle of ours is in full swing, I will let you know how it’s going, if we haven’t killed each other from trying to live off of salads, that is.
Also – and this has nothing to do with vegetarianism or porn stars or anything – but you should check out this new blog that I found. I don’t write it, but someone very, very, VERY close to me does. OK, so maybe that someone IS me. It’s called SHIRLEY FROM SPACE. Enjoy!