I’m a vegetarian.
Not one of those vegetarians who makes it their whole personality. I just mention it when it’s relevant—like when someone else is chewing.
You know what I had for lunch today?
Lentils.
You know what I didn’t have?
Blood on my hands.
Have you ever read the ingredients in fast food chicken nuggets? I have. Out loud. When other people are eating them.
I believe in mindful eating. I advocate for animal rights. I use the word nourish instead of eat, while I sip from my Erewhon smoothie. That’s why I decided to be a vegetarian—except for when I’m eating chicken. Or turkey. Or fish. Or beef.
But that’s rare.
I mean—medium rare.
If you really think about it, being vegetarian is more of a mindset than a practice. That’s why I had a steak last night.
And I put rosemary and thyme on the steak, which basically makes it a salad. I only did it for the iron. The cow wouldn’t have wanted me to be anemic.
Don’t look at me like that. Meat is murder. But you know what else is violent? Judging people.
So yes, I stand for vegetarianism. I stand for the planet. And I stand for the animals…unless I’m sitting down with a hamburger.