The Greener Watch.
There's no easy way to say this, so here it is:
Your Humble Narrator is going vegan.
Perhaps for life, perhaps not. Maybe everyday, maybe not. But definitely for the duration as an open-ended experiment journey of discovery(project managers call this "doing a job on spec"). And while it certainly sounds like a big step, one would think that, having been a vegetarian for a decade plus(albeit one of those quasi-traitorous ovo-lacto types), the next logical hop, skip, and jump to full-blown veganism would not only be effortless, seeing as we're halfway there already, but idiot-proof as well.
Yes and no.
Being an omnivore is relatively easy; humans not only can eat myriad foodstuffs(and food-like products), but often find themselves on the beneficial end of dietary law if they do eat across the spectrum. Making the switch to common ovo-lacto vegetarianism, while harrowing at first, eventually opens up a previously hidden world of things to eat, things that later or sooner become ingrained enuf into one's lifestyle as to become second-nature. Just as an omnivore has an all access pass to the foods of the planet, so does the vegetarian; the only difference is that the vegetarian has voluntarily implemented a psychological governor to cordon off the foods they have chosen not to consume. Vegetarians are just as free to eat as they please as omnivores are, they simply follow a slightly more wiggly path thru the garden. The most noticeable(as well as the least) side effect of vegetarianism(ovo-lacto vegetarianism, anyway), is that vegetarians are equally succeptible of falling into dietary paradigms as omnivores. Omnivores get used to eating buffalo burgers, chicken feet, and Rocky Mountain oysters; vegetarians get used to eating tofu fries, cheese smoothies, and Tofurky-on-a-stick.
The paradigm only becomes brutally and terribly apparent when the threshold of veganism is breached. Suddenly, a new, weird aura of fear surrounds every piece of food we used to trust enuf to put in our mouths. Reading ingredient labels and interrogating waitpersons now becomes standard operating procedure. Soups now have to be checked for both broth and dairy, salads for egg as well as bacon, and sweets for honey. Even bread, the vegetarian's Rock of Gibraltar, is suspect. And even beyond this gray realm of customizable consumables that are often adulterated, foods that the vegetarian knows to be kosher suddenly fall under the microscope. Were these almonds tossed with egg whites? What were these olives marinated in? Why is the sauce for these mushrooms so creamy? What kind of milk is in this tea? What's this pink spongy thing in my stew?
It's paranoia, but a different kind of paranoia. Vegan paranoia. Veganoia, if you will.
One of the major obstacles that prevents most people from committing to any dietary change to their lifestyle is the almost paralyzing unwillingness to sacrifice eating a certain food, and for most vegans-in-waiting, the dealbreaker is usually cheese, or from a more base viewpoint, fat. As humans, our tongues tend to favor detection of either fat or sugar, the primary foodstuffs with the highest density of energy. (this idea goes a long way in both explaining and exacerbating the tendency for men to gravitate towards salty, fatty foods, while women beeline for sweet ones.) Overcoming that craving for that which gives us the most immediate satisfaction, the most concentrated packets of solar power, the most legal high, is what can make or break a lifestyle change. It's pleasure versus practicality, and as thinking animals, we should be able to, if not rise entirely above, at least keep our natural desires in check when it comes to our well-being. Lab rats, when provided with a limitless and readily available supply of sugar water, will gorge themselves sick. One would hope that humans have a bit more self-control.
The easy part is that, just as everyone who gets inked gets their tat for different individual reasons, and as all vegetarians play either fast and loose or hard and tight with the "rules," not all vegans are monks, presumably. There will be slip-ups and sneaks, covert chomping and inadvertent imbibing, and like any learning process, these errors should be welcomed. Besides, a vegan who "falls from grace" and reverts back to vegetarianism can hopefully be viewed as less of a turncoat than a similar herbivore who converts back to meat-eating.
The hard part is getting used to giving up the unctuous fat that the tongue has grown so accustomed to, especially the aforementioned and beloved cheese. Still, if a person can learn to live with anything, good or bad, it figures that the opposite is true and that the void left by a sacrifice will fill in and gloss over, given time, like a scar or a hickey.
Besides, it's just cheese.
So that's the what. Now the question everyone asks, later or sooner: why?
Efficiency, perhaps? Consider: "vegetarian" has ten letters and five syllables, while "vegan" only has five letters and two syllables. Think of the cumulative time that will be saved just in pronouncement efforts alone.
...
No, still no idea.
⎋
Your Humble Narrator is going vegan.
Perhaps for life, perhaps not. Maybe everyday, maybe not. But definitely for the duration as an open-ended experiment journey of discovery(project managers call this "doing a job on spec"). And while it certainly sounds like a big step, one would think that, having been a vegetarian for a decade plus(albeit one of those quasi-traitorous ovo-lacto types), the next logical hop, skip, and jump to full-blown veganism would not only be effortless, seeing as we're halfway there already, but idiot-proof as well.
Yes and no.
Being an omnivore is relatively easy; humans not only can eat myriad foodstuffs(and food-like products), but often find themselves on the beneficial end of dietary law if they do eat across the spectrum. Making the switch to common ovo-lacto vegetarianism, while harrowing at first, eventually opens up a previously hidden world of things to eat, things that later or sooner become ingrained enuf into one's lifestyle as to become second-nature. Just as an omnivore has an all access pass to the foods of the planet, so does the vegetarian; the only difference is that the vegetarian has voluntarily implemented a psychological governor to cordon off the foods they have chosen not to consume. Vegetarians are just as free to eat as they please as omnivores are, they simply follow a slightly more wiggly path thru the garden. The most noticeable(as well as the least) side effect of vegetarianism(ovo-lacto vegetarianism, anyway), is that vegetarians are equally succeptible of falling into dietary paradigms as omnivores. Omnivores get used to eating buffalo burgers, chicken feet, and Rocky Mountain oysters; vegetarians get used to eating tofu fries, cheese smoothies, and Tofurky-on-a-stick.
The paradigm only becomes brutally and terribly apparent when the threshold of veganism is breached. Suddenly, a new, weird aura of fear surrounds every piece of food we used to trust enuf to put in our mouths. Reading ingredient labels and interrogating waitpersons now becomes standard operating procedure. Soups now have to be checked for both broth and dairy, salads for egg as well as bacon, and sweets for honey. Even bread, the vegetarian's Rock of Gibraltar, is suspect. And even beyond this gray realm of customizable consumables that are often adulterated, foods that the vegetarian knows to be kosher suddenly fall under the microscope. Were these almonds tossed with egg whites? What were these olives marinated in? Why is the sauce for these mushrooms so creamy? What kind of milk is in this tea? What's this pink spongy thing in my stew?
It's paranoia, but a different kind of paranoia. Vegan paranoia. Veganoia, if you will.
One of the major obstacles that prevents most people from committing to any dietary change to their lifestyle is the almost paralyzing unwillingness to sacrifice eating a certain food, and for most vegans-in-waiting, the dealbreaker is usually cheese, or from a more base viewpoint, fat. As humans, our tongues tend to favor detection of either fat or sugar, the primary foodstuffs with the highest density of energy. (this idea goes a long way in both explaining and exacerbating the tendency for men to gravitate towards salty, fatty foods, while women beeline for sweet ones.) Overcoming that craving for that which gives us the most immediate satisfaction, the most concentrated packets of solar power, the most legal high, is what can make or break a lifestyle change. It's pleasure versus practicality, and as thinking animals, we should be able to, if not rise entirely above, at least keep our natural desires in check when it comes to our well-being. Lab rats, when provided with a limitless and readily available supply of sugar water, will gorge themselves sick. One would hope that humans have a bit more self-control.
The easy part is that, just as everyone who gets inked gets their tat for different individual reasons, and as all vegetarians play either fast and loose or hard and tight with the "rules," not all vegans are monks, presumably. There will be slip-ups and sneaks, covert chomping and inadvertent imbibing, and like any learning process, these errors should be welcomed. Besides, a vegan who "falls from grace" and reverts back to vegetarianism can hopefully be viewed as less of a turncoat than a similar herbivore who converts back to meat-eating.
The hard part is getting used to giving up the unctuous fat that the tongue has grown so accustomed to, especially the aforementioned and beloved cheese. Still, if a person can learn to live with anything, good or bad, it figures that the opposite is true and that the void left by a sacrifice will fill in and gloss over, given time, like a scar or a hickey.
Besides, it's just cheese.
So that's the what. Now the question everyone asks, later or sooner: why?
Efficiency, perhaps? Consider: "vegetarian" has ten letters and five syllables, while "vegan" only has five letters and two syllables. Think of the cumulative time that will be saved just in pronouncement efforts alone.
...
No, still no idea.
⎋