Stumbling into vegetarianism
This might sound strange, but it’s true: I think I’ve become a vegetarian.
The Quiet Man blog has gotten to the point where I can’t keep track of what I’ve already written. In its infancy (way back in early 2006) there was a strange, clumsy time when I was feeling out the blogging experience, trying to give The Quiet Man definite character. Since then, this blog has evolved from blatant randomness (writing whatever crosses my mind, without provocation) to directed randomness (I have a reason for writing what I write, even though it may not be apparent). So, I apologize if I repeat subjects or write something I’ve already written. Chances are if I don’t remember writing it, you, the reader, may not remember reading it — hopefully. I think the things we repeat say a lot about who we are (in a good way) — classic jokes, favorite stories, quirky sayings. But I don’t know what it says about me if, in fact, I’m writing about vegetarianism again. That’s for you to decide.
So, back to the point. Without making any conscious decision to do so, without having any radical, far out reason to quit eating meat — like not wanting to eat anything that casts a shadow — I think I’ve become a vegetarian.
Sounds strange, doesn’t it? It does to me, too. It's weird to realize I’ve become something without even knowing it.
How could it have happened? Well, despite how active I am (I play basketball, walk a lot, and run every other day) my pants and shirts began feeling a little tighter this summer. I’ve never counted calories, but one night, as I prepared a meal of Zatarain’s jambalaya rice and fried Polish sausage, I looked at the labels and added their facts together. Even though I wasn’t eating much (a batch of rice and sausage was guaranteed to be three day left-overs), the food I ate was packed with energy, so much so I’d never be able to burn it off in one day. From then on I’ve become conscious of what I’m putting in my body.
Sure, I was a little behind the times, but I grew up eating a lot of easily prepared meals and fast food. When my dad made hamburgers, the patties he formed were about three or four times bigger than anything even Carls Jr.’s would contemplate serving. I quit eating fast food a long time ago (December 31, 2003 was the last time I bought fast food, and I’m not counting the two or three times I’ve had In-N-Out Burger since moving to Huntington Beach because, well, In-N-Out is a classic California experience, like drive-thru diaries) but the food I have been eating is still just as bad. Another change in my eating habits was in order.
Now, when I go to the local Ralph’s, I shop exclusively in the produce section. Seriously. The last time I went to the grocery store I filled my basket with oranges, apples, bananas, two containers of pre-sliced mushrooms, a baggie of grapes, two jars of spear pickles (not in the produce section, but just as healthy), and two big red peppers. I almost needed a cart (which reminds me: I should write a post about ways to tell you’re making it in the real world). The least healthy thing I’ve eaten since coming home from Iowa City was the Mac and Cheese I had this weekend (well, maybe it was the 40 of Mickey’s, but let’s not talk about drinking). For dinner last night I cooked slices of mushrooms with slices of pepper, adding a little garlic when the pieces were hot and juicy. Not to take anything from Alton Brown, but it was some good eats.
The one thing that hasn’t been placed in my shopping basket since August: Meat. I haven’t bought any kind of meat since then, and have eaten it only when I wasn’t cooking. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that I avoid it now. The cuts of kielbasa my dad added to the potatoes and mushrooms I fried my first night home were the first pieces of meat I’d eaten in over a month. Pretty good, eh? So I guess that makes me a vegetarian.
I’ve always wanted to be a vegetarian, or at least try it out for a while. But the thing is vegetarians and vegans, to me, always seem to have a concrete reason why they don’t eat meat or animal byproducts. Their motives are usually political, environmental, or ethical — they don’t want to support, by proxy, inhumane killing methods or giant corporations, and I feel the same way. A vegetarian friend of mine told me, when I was contemplating vegetarianism in college: “You HAVE to have a reason to be a vegetarian. You can't just do it because you want to.” Does wanting to be healthy count? I hope so, because that's my main reason.
Regardless of whether or not I’m considered a vegetarian (I think I am), one thing I know for sure is I’m never going to eat the same way again.
The Quiet Man blog has gotten to the point where I can’t keep track of what I’ve already written. In its infancy (way back in early 2006) there was a strange, clumsy time when I was feeling out the blogging experience, trying to give The Quiet Man definite character. Since then, this blog has evolved from blatant randomness (writing whatever crosses my mind, without provocation) to directed randomness (I have a reason for writing what I write, even though it may not be apparent). So, I apologize if I repeat subjects or write something I’ve already written. Chances are if I don’t remember writing it, you, the reader, may not remember reading it — hopefully. I think the things we repeat say a lot about who we are (in a good way) — classic jokes, favorite stories, quirky sayings. But I don’t know what it says about me if, in fact, I’m writing about vegetarianism again. That’s for you to decide.
So, back to the point. Without making any conscious decision to do so, without having any radical, far out reason to quit eating meat — like not wanting to eat anything that casts a shadow — I think I’ve become a vegetarian.
Sounds strange, doesn’t it? It does to me, too. It's weird to realize I’ve become something without even knowing it.
How could it have happened? Well, despite how active I am (I play basketball, walk a lot, and run every other day) my pants and shirts began feeling a little tighter this summer. I’ve never counted calories, but one night, as I prepared a meal of Zatarain’s jambalaya rice and fried Polish sausage, I looked at the labels and added their facts together. Even though I wasn’t eating much (a batch of rice and sausage was guaranteed to be three day left-overs), the food I ate was packed with energy, so much so I’d never be able to burn it off in one day. From then on I’ve become conscious of what I’m putting in my body.
Sure, I was a little behind the times, but I grew up eating a lot of easily prepared meals and fast food. When my dad made hamburgers, the patties he formed were about three or four times bigger than anything even Carls Jr.’s would contemplate serving. I quit eating fast food a long time ago (December 31, 2003 was the last time I bought fast food, and I’m not counting the two or three times I’ve had In-N-Out Burger since moving to Huntington Beach because, well, In-N-Out is a classic California experience, like drive-thru diaries) but the food I have been eating is still just as bad. Another change in my eating habits was in order.
Now, when I go to the local Ralph’s, I shop exclusively in the produce section. Seriously. The last time I went to the grocery store I filled my basket with oranges, apples, bananas, two containers of pre-sliced mushrooms, a baggie of grapes, two jars of spear pickles (not in the produce section, but just as healthy), and two big red peppers. I almost needed a cart (which reminds me: I should write a post about ways to tell you’re making it in the real world). The least healthy thing I’ve eaten since coming home from Iowa City was the Mac and Cheese I had this weekend (well, maybe it was the 40 of Mickey’s, but let’s not talk about drinking). For dinner last night I cooked slices of mushrooms with slices of pepper, adding a little garlic when the pieces were hot and juicy. Not to take anything from Alton Brown, but it was some good eats.
The one thing that hasn’t been placed in my shopping basket since August: Meat. I haven’t bought any kind of meat since then, and have eaten it only when I wasn’t cooking. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that I avoid it now. The cuts of kielbasa my dad added to the potatoes and mushrooms I fried my first night home were the first pieces of meat I’d eaten in over a month. Pretty good, eh? So I guess that makes me a vegetarian.
I’ve always wanted to be a vegetarian, or at least try it out for a while. But the thing is vegetarians and vegans, to me, always seem to have a concrete reason why they don’t eat meat or animal byproducts. Their motives are usually political, environmental, or ethical — they don’t want to support, by proxy, inhumane killing methods or giant corporations, and I feel the same way. A vegetarian friend of mine told me, when I was contemplating vegetarianism in college: “You HAVE to have a reason to be a vegetarian. You can't just do it because you want to.” Does wanting to be healthy count? I hope so, because that's my main reason.
Regardless of whether or not I’m considered a vegetarian (I think I am), one thing I know for sure is I’m never going to eat the same way again.
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