How That Vegetarian Thing is going

If you are a frequent or even sometimes reader of this blog, you know that since January 1 I have been living a meatless existence.

I’ve been a pescetarian. Or, if you’re my mom and don’t fully listen all the time when I tell you things, a “presbyterian.” Even though I really am that, too.

Anyways. No meat, just fish. And limited if any, cheese, which has nothing to do with meat really except it comes from the same place and the animals can stay alive and you still will get cheese.

For any of you that might be new, or, to refresh your memory, I gave up cheese after some sent me to the emergency room, and I gave up meat soon after because I found that it was entirely too easy to go to Wendy’s all the time, I felt like crap a lot and I realized it wasn’t even that good.

And it’s gone well, so far.

Sure, sometimes the aroma of Chick-fil-A makes me want to say “nevermind that whole thing, I’ll just grab breakfast nuggets this one time.” And when the new Smashburger showed up downtown, I didn’t enjoy a delicious burger, so much as black beans that wouldn’t stay together in burger form and gave me gas.

Speaking of gas, I also now am officially lactose intolerant. Doctor hasn’t told me, but I know. I. KNOW.

Anyways.

As I said, it’s gone well. For the most part. You see, there have been a couple of setbacks.

My family went out to eat at The Blind Pig like, a month after I made my declaration of almost-vegetarianism. This restaurant is an almost entirely meat-full restaurant. They have bacon ice cream, kids.

I found the one fish item on the menu and was forced to taste the aforementioned bacon ice cream, much to my chagrin. It ain’t bad. And I spit out all the tiny bacon pieces that were in it, so that doesn’t really count.

Then there was the time I was trying to be a good person and didn’t realize my meal had been compromised until it was too late.

I went to pick my grandma up from a short stay in the hospital. She had fallen and broken her wrist and my parents were otherwise unavailable so it fell to me to pick her up and take her home. Not a problem, of course, I love spending time with the little lady. Problem was, we got home and everyone had already finished dinner.

I sat down for dinner with her and was so preoccupied with making sure she was eating OK and wasn’t leaning on her broken wrist and everything that when a plate was put in front of me to eat with her so she wasn’t alone, I blindly took a bite. And then another, and then another. And then realized it was pot roast.

Shit.

I called my mom all anxious and frustrated because I’d been doing so well and how pathetic that I couldn’t even make it more than a couple months without eating a four-legged animal.

You guys, my stress dreams now are about eating meat. Before? They were that I didn’t actually finish school – I’d forgotten to take a class or turn something in or pass a class or whatever and my whole high school or college education was invalid.

Now, when I’m stressed? I dream about eating a hamburger. WTF.

After that, I vowed to pay more attention to everything I ate. Make sure places have a vegetarian option or shrimp or fish. Don’t go to BW3s. Potato soup does have bacon bits in it, even if it looks like it doesn’t.

Which brings us to The Incident.

It happened this past weekend, at a bridal shower for Rebeck.

I’ve been in wedding mode since, like, November, keeping track of showers, bachelorette parties, gifts, cards, invitations, save-the-dates, planning and whatnot.

Kind-of-related: Made a kick-ass ribbon bouquet for Rachel at her two showers. I’m so crafty!

But yeah…you know what a lot of people make to eat for showers of the bridal and baby variety? Pimento cheese.

Ahhh, pimento cheese. You live in or attend a party in the South, there’s a 97 percent chance something there will contain either benedictine or pimento cheese. Yummm.

Naturally, Rebeck’s shower, in Tennessee, was no exception. Except these pimento cheese sandwiches were panini. They were cut up in those cute little triangles and I loaded my plate up (and by load up I mean I took 3).

Delicious. Deee. Lish. Us.

I’m at my second bite of my third sandwich and a sort-of-familiar bit of food hits my tastebuds.

It can’t be.

Noooooooooooooooo.

I look at Rebeck.

“Do these have bacon in them?”

“Yup.”

“Shit. Well. I’m not a vegetarian anymore.”

And I had been doing so well! Obviously this was sabotage. How was I to know these usually meatless sandwiches were now tainted with That Food I Had Vowed Not To Eat?

So, I had three more and vowed to go back to the meatless diet the second I left Sarah’s house.

And I am sticking to it.

Until another Meat Sneak Attack.

But beware. I’ve got my guard up now. I think.