It’s a bit weak in the ankles, but the Times has a story today about couples with contrary diets. There are of course those who believe diet is a life-or-death struggle—not between those who eat and those who are eaten, but between those who eat others and those who do not. My grandmother has already declared her allegiance against us, and my uncle has begun wearing a T-shirt that reads “For every animal you don’t eat, I’ll eat two” when we go to AR for holiday. For us, however, adjusting was not that difficult. When we moved in together, I decided to exclude my own carnivorous ways from our house. So at a restaurant I would order the chicken sandwich; at home, my sandwiches had portobella mushrooms and swiss. A few years passed, and I began to feel really bad about eating chickens that 1) had never seen the sun, and 2) had never eaten anything but the processed legs, beaks, and intestines of their mothers and fathers. Likewise cows. So I stopped eating non-organic flesh and shortly thereafter gave up carnivority altogether. Best of all, our house now smells more like southern India than it ever would have in the past. Therefore: vegetarianism FTW!

Comments