Why I stopped being a vegetarian after almost 28 years.
It seemed like a cool thing to do back in 1988, to stop eating all animal flesh. After all, my closest male relative after my Father’s death a year earlier was a vegan. Some of my class-mates were as well. In April that year, the time was right, I stopped eating all forms of animal flesh. Right before my trip to Washington DC with the “We The People” Constitution Competition, which we ended up winning and becoming the first National Champions.
My Mom had been cooking chicken for as long as I can remember, and even before his death my dad wouldn’t eat her chicken. My wife says now that my Mom doesn’t cook it long enough. I honestly don’t have a frame of reference for that, because I haven’t cooked any chicken in 28 years. Suffice to say, I had stopped eating my Mom’s chicken well before I stopped eating beef and pork as well as seafood.
I don’t like killing things, that’s what I tell myself. It’s true, taking another creature’s life is not high on the list of things I enjoy. Even bugs don’t get me going. I take spiders outside to roam free. Vermin get a free pass to the outside world. So I’m not going to go out of my way to eat animals either. Should be easy.
It did get easier, but in 1988, it wasn’t that easy. My Mom was adjusting to life without my Dad the best way she could, and as something to get my mind off of it, I decided to radically change my entire way of life. It worked too. I felt healthier. I felt like I belonged to a special group. I bonded with my Uncle as well. I opened my horizons, I tried Indian food and loved it. I ate Greek food and loved it. If it was vegetarian I tried it. I fell in love with the few soy-meats I could find. To me they tasted the same, just the texture was weird.
IN any case, it’s been a month and I’ve lost 20 pounds. I feel physically great.
Mentally not so much