And the primary reason is this:
Meat is just, like, glecch.
And sort of, I don’t know, (nose crinkle) mlech.
And sometimes? At band camp? A hamburger will have an angry glowing red patch in the middle? And it will look sort of stringy and odd and like it might possibly have a pulse? Ha! HA HA HA HA! SO GROSS.
Or then other times my tooth will bounce off a hard piece of … who knows? No one can explain it away. Is it bone? Part of a Lee press-on nail?
“It’s just cartilage!” Larry will say.
“Ohhhh …it’s JUST cartilage! Well in that case. PASS THE SALAD.”
And then, there’s chicken. Fickle, fickle, unpredictable little bird. Chicken can taste great one day and like the inside of a coffin the next. And the texture of chicken is so unpredictable. Sometimes tender and juicy. Sometimes slimy--or rubbery! Like a trampoline for your teeth!
There’s just no telling with chicken.
And then of course there are the animals, which, god. I wish I cared about them. I really do. That would totally be the right way to go about this thing. To see the mistreatment of animals. To comprehend the horrendous working conditions in meat packing plants. To watch Food Inc. and say “I will not be a party to this any longer!”
But it’s more about the way my teeth bounce off the meat. Boing! Boing! Boing! That’s just not how chewing was meant to be.
And then. Have you ever had to just chew a piece of meat forever because it will not go down in size? OH MY GOD. And you’re all, nom nom nom nom. Nom nom nom nom nom … what the? …. Nom nom nom … I THINK IT’S ACTUALLY GETTING … BIGGER! Nawm … nawm … naaawwwwm … and then, your heart starts to race, and your armpits start to trickle, and you feel all hot and your whole mouth is just MEAT? And you have no options. There is no graceful way out. It’s either choke on it or chuck it. So, you get your napkin, and you discretely release the animal from your mouth (easy boy, eeee-zzeee) and your husband is all, “so, the meat’s not working for you again?”
That happens to me.
So, Larry (who claims to enjoy riding my Magic Bus of Changing Dietary Whims, as long as he gets to drive) has started whipping up all kinds of tasty vegetarian dishes (with no additives, preservatives, high fructose corn syrup, or hydrogenated oils, because I can’t just get on a kick, I have to put on nude tights and audition for the Rockettes.)
We’ve been eating fruits, vegetables, whole grains, beans. The occasional piece of fish.
If nothing else, it’s all worth it just to hear Patrick pronounce the word Quinoa.
Aww, look at the little vegetarian, hippy child with no TV!
What additional measures can we take to ensure he has no friends?
And of course I have many, many ideas on that front …but right now I have to get my oldest carnivore to school. This kid was born with a giant turkey leg clutched in his fist, so this could get interesting …
TO BE CONTINUED.