Vegan. Now there’s a word I never actually imagined I’d ever use to describe myself. Ironically, and perhaps somewhat shamefully, this is something that entered my life not of my own accord. I didn’t consciously think about this regularly and come to the conclusion by myself. And I’ll admit, initially, I was resistant to it.
Ultimately this all started with my boyfriend, whose brother had recently made the decision to abstain from eating animals or their byproducts. And I think, in a weird way, I had always been able to simply accept that meat was necessary to a healthy diet. And my resistance to changing my diet could be pinpointed primarily to the fact that I love milk and chicken.
And I remember thinking as my boyfriend repeatedly discussed with me how morally abhorrent he found eating animals to be (and rightly so) that I had no idea what I could possibly eat if I were to cut these two items out of my diet. Recently, it’s occurred to me that I already eat a mostly vegan diet anyway, minus the occasional lunch or dinner with chicken and the even more rare moments when I would have breakfast with eggs and/or milk.
I feel good about my decision to stop eating these products, though I know that I will miss certain foods. I’ve always loved cheese and it’s going to be hard to cut that out. But I think, at the end of the day it’s a good decision to make. I think I’m going to have a harder time cutting out their byproducts, such as eggs, cheese, milk, and butter. But I just can’t do it anymore. At the end of the day, the things these animals go through is so horrible that I’m making it a point not to ignore it anymore like I’ve done for the first 25 years of my life.