It has become clear to me that some folks get a little freaked out by human vegetarians. I guess they’re basically OK with mares eating oats and does eating oats and little lambs eating ivy, but when I ask for no beef on a taco salad it sends them into a downward spiral of fear of the unknown, and they start desperately grasping for the reasons why.
So, in the interest of
being a smartassed bitch getting along better with my fellow man, I make the following promises to those who get a little weirded out by my presence on the planet:
1. I will not change my name to Go Veg and make myself look like a complete fool.
2. If I see you wearing fur, I won’t throw paint on you. However, if you see me wearing hemp, please feel free to throw pot at me.
3. I will not tell you how I only eat organic food and how great I feel because of my healthy lifestyle. (I eat just as much junk food as anyone does. Probably more.)
4. I will never offer you yogurt of any kind. Healthy or not, I think it tastes like raw eggs and sour milk. But, if you like it and you eat it in my presence, I will do my best not to visibly cringe or gag.
Your role as the non-vegetarian dining with me, the freak, may be easier than you think:
1. You don’t have to apologize for eating meat in my presence. Unless I fart, I won’t be apologizing to you for eating my bean burrito.
2. You don’t have to mention my being a vegetarian to everyone you introduce me to. In fact, please don’t. Are you always so informative? I don’t recall your being so detailed in your other introductions, and I like to think I would remember if you’d said, “Hey, Debbie, I’d like you to meet Eric. He’s an omnivore! Isn’t that just wild?!”
3. You don’t have to ask me why I’m a vegetarian. Two reasons:
A. It makes for awkward dinner conversation.
B. You probably don’t care. And that’s ok. Really.
Now, if you good people will excuse me, I’m off to download “Mairzy Doats.” Burl Ives was rockin’.