In the same week in the 7th grade I saw a graphic movie (a la “The Jungle”) and watched my dad catch and fillet a fish. I promptly gave up meat.
My vegetarianism became a friendly bet to see how long I would last. Never challenge a 12-year-old headstrong girl to a battle of wills with pride on the line.
After weeks and months, the vegetarian “thing” just became habit.
I was a vegetarian through most of my teens and early twenties – this was in the 90s when there was even less awareness and options as there are now.
Let us define our terms: A vegetarian is one who doesn’t eat anything that had a face. Or, as I more recently heard: one who doesn’t eat anything that had parents. If you eat fish, you are not a vegetarian you are a pescetarian. If you eat chicken, you are not a vegetarian. If you eat things made with beef stock, lard or consume any other animal flesh or fat product you are not a vegetarian – or at the least you are a lapsing vegetarian. If you eat animal rarely you are a flexitarian (thank you Michael Pollan).
Ok, so now that we have our terms clear, I was an Ovo-Lacto Vegetarian – meaning nothing with a face but I did allow eggs and milk. I almost never (like once or twice a year) had plain eggs or milk but cheese and not being choosy about my bread products were my great block to vegan. I’m not even sure I knew that word at the time. Again, there was not as much awareness – including by me – and alternatives at the time.
I did ok though. There is so much junk-vegetarian food and I never was into boca-ish substitute stuff. I like salad. I like veggies. I cooked a lot for myself but options, particularly of salad, are available – albeit in varying degrees of freshness – almost everywhere. You can order almost any carb dish sans meat and because our portions in the US are way out of control, you will eat just fine. I even got really good at ordering burgerless burgers in college.
After about 7 years of being ovo-lacto, I missed turkey one Thanksgiving and so had some. I got wicked-triptophan-almighty-you-might-need-to-take-me-to-the-ER sick. Yet, the seal was broken and the next week I was craving a BLT. I had one and didn’t get (too) ill. Then I discovered sushi.
