Meat Manifesto

I don't like meat, and while that sentiment may keep me from ever getting a date again, I'm willing to make it. I'm not sure what motivated me to finally make a serious committment, but now after ten years of flirting with going veg, I think I might actually go through with it.

I remember sitting on my grandmother's couch when I was five years old, eating bologna and being completely disgusted. I'd overheard that in some factories, they used toilet paper (I'm guessing unused) as filler in the bologna, and I tore the slice into pieces to see if I could find it. But the toilet paper didn't bother me nearly as much as the idea that I was eating flesh.

When I was twelve, my sister and I started the non-egg eaters club and loudly refused to eat scrambled eggs at the dinner table. When I read Jude the Obscure, and Jude became revolted by killing and eating a pig, I seriously considered forgoing meat. It wasn't just a twentieth-century hippie notion, the Victorians thought so too. I announced to my parents that I wasn't going to eat meat anymore. I was met with laughter (my dad) and shrieking (my mom.)

I didn't seriously stop eating meat until college; unfortunately cheez-its and diet coke, while meatless, is not balanced and healthy. So I went back to eating meat, not because I like it, but because it was easy. I don't remember the last time I cooked meat at home, but when I go to restaurants or get take-out, it's all meat all the time. The vegetarian options are usually about as delcious and exciting as dirt.

People have many reasons for not eating meat: religious, political, environmental, and while it's true that meat is cruel, environment unsound and possibly unhealthy, I can't profess any of them. I just don't want to.