(Sigh). So, this is an unlikely development: I’m now a vegetarian— “unlikely” because I’m not the vegetarian type. I subscribed to the notion that that if God didn’t want people to eat animals, he wouldn’t have made them out of meat. I love meat. I really love it.
The cruelty aspect never bothered me—and still doesn’t. Why should it be crueler to eat animals than plants? Don’t plants have the right to live too? And unlike animals that have legs, plants don’t even have a chance to get away. If plants had sad-looking eyes, there would be girls who would swear off eating everything. But that wouldn’t bother me. I’d still eat plants—heck, I’d even eat the eyes if they were good.
But there is one animal I don’t want to kill…
As delicious as meat is, it appears that if God wanted people to eat meat, he wouldn’t have made it out of poison (What does this guy have against us?!). I’m convinced. And, in the spirit of The New New Patriotism, changing my diet is the right thing to do (By the way, watch Forks Over Knives).
But I’m not a strict vegetarian. That would never work. I’ll still eat meat recreationally. This approach to eating is common enough to have a name: flexitarianism. It means you like “living” too much to stop eating meat entirely, but you like living too much to eat a lot of meat. It also means I’m moving begrudgingly closer to being a metrosexual.
But if the alternative is heart bypass surgery and eventual death, I’ll take it.