Follow up

Last night we had chicken stir fry for dinner. 

Okay, so I didn't make it a year as a vegetarian. I didn't even make it the full three months, to tell the truth.  And recently, despite all the delish veggie dishes we've invented over the past few months, I sort of lost sight of the reason I decided to scrap the meat-eating in the first place. 

I mean, I love animals. Ask anyone. Ask Amaru. He has to hear about it all. the. flipping. time. The other night, he got cursed out for his rough handling of my stuffed dog. I mean, with treatment like that, what hope is there for our future live pup(s)? 

Proof I love animals! This is my cousin's new Great Dane pup, Badge.

And it's not just dogs that make me a little loopy. I boycotted the Human Planet series after watching a group of tribal hunters harpoon a whale. Even back when I was little, I sent a letter to Tom's of Maine expressing my gratitude at their refusal to sell animal-tested products. I think I also told them I liked animals so much I'd decided to go vegan, but I'm pretty sure that first venture into meat-freeness didn't last long. Like, I had probably munched a chicken nugget before I postmarked the letter.

When we watched Food, Inc. last year, I was horrified, just like I knew I would be. I'd avoided the film because I knew it would show me lots of things I preferred to pretend do not happen in the [American] meat production industry.  But after seeing it, I knew I couldn't ignore it. I simply won't accept the industry as-is, where lame, diseased, terrified animals are considered acceptable producers of our pork chops and strip steaks. 

But apart from a few convincing sermons here and there (Alicia Silverstone had me second-guessing myself big time about an animals' feelings, and their right not to be eaten, in her cookbook The Kind Diet), I really don't think it's unacceptable for humans to eat meat. We're carnivores. I mean, we wouldn't try to get between a lion and his wildebeest, would we? But crap, the lion sure wouldn't fatten up his prey with nutrient-bankrupt corn feed and E. coli. Would he?

Anyway, this is all sounding a bit like a long, drawn-out excuse. There are other factors at work here, and they all helped solidify my decision to go back to meat. Being a guest in someone else's home, for instance. Like when I went to my Gram's house over Christmas break to spend a night, just the two of us, and she had prepared a big platter of my former favorite, Chicken Divan. I ate around the meat, but it felt really rude to do after she'd prepared a whole meal. The next night, at my aunt's house, I just went ahead and ate some of the chicken she served. 

There's also my body, which I believe has not taken too kindly to being forced into herbivorism. I've gained a whole bunch of weight, and I'm convinced that it's the diet change. I'm pretty sure that's unusual -- to pack on pounds by cutting out meat -- but I really do think that contributed to my extra lbs. Only time will tell on that one, I guess. 

Just to be clear, I'm still going to be super-strict on myself about where I get my meat, and what kinds I eat. I'm not celebrating my return to carnivory with veal chops. I want to make it a point to eat only healthy, humane meat. And I'll spend the extra bucks to do it, believe me. Happily.

I can use all that money I'm saving by shopping at good ol' Sal's (as we affectionately call our local Salvation Army thrift store). I mentioned last post how difficult the recycled-clothing-only rule has proven to be, and it's true that I miss the heck out of shopping in a store that sells multiples, but I'm plugging away at it. I've found a few gems here and there, though I didn't anticipate how crap-tastic the nearby thrift stores would be here in my new home. I mean, I thought up this rule back before leaving Chicago, where you could find a different thrift/secondhand/consignment shop on any corner, and most of them were damn good. I had no idea the ones around here would be lousy. But that just means I have to get more creative with what I've already got in my (waaaay overstuffed) closet.

Okay, so that's the long, unsolicited explanation. Maybe next I'll write all about the sheer agony of Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred, which is what I've been doing the last week and a half to try to sweat off all those extra pounds. 

But no pictures.