“Yer hungry all the time, aren’t ya? Man, I just can’t do
that. I gotta have protein.”
“You eat chicken or fish?
They aren't really meat.”
When I made the decision many years ago to become a complete
vegetarian, I had no idea the grief my sustenance preference would cause so
many people. I naively thought that my
choice was one that affected only me, as the food that I eat only goes into my
body. I have never liked
meat…Really... Never. As summertime rolls around and the grills
begin firing up, my mouth starts watering at the thought of grilled pineapple,
and corn on the cob, cold watermelon…etc…not anywhere in my mind do the
standards of cheeseburgers, steaks and chicken wings float around beckoning me
to take the big Chomp. Admittedly, this
could be a malfunction on my part, but given this knowledge, I naturally, or so
I thought, became a vegetarian. Over the
course of time, since my return here to fertile Southern soil, I have learned
how mistaken I truly was to think that my reasoning was mine alone. Really, I should have asked before I made yet
another Southern social blunder.
Above I mentioned a few comments that I have heard so many
times that I can’t narrate them down into their individual small stories. The South is known for its food, and whether its
country ham or bacon at breakfast, hamburger or a bologna sandwich at lunch or pork chops at dinner,
the main dish is always a huge hunk of meat. It’s a way of life. The average
person eats three meals a day, so that is three times a day, twenty one times a
week, one thousand and ninety two times a year when I have to explain that I
eat nothing that ever had a face. This concept seems simple to me, “No Food
With Faces,” but perhaps not.
The typical conversation goes a little like this: “Thanks,
but I am a vegetarian. I’ll just have a
salad.” “Won’t you be hungry after that?” “No, I will load it up with plenty of
greens and fresh fruit. It will be delicious.” “You must be one of them Vegans
I heard about. They are pretty weird.” “No, a vegan typically abstains from the
use of any animal byproducts that includes dairy products. I love cheese, so I am not a vegan.” To which
I receive a blank stare and a slow, confused sound, “Uh huh,” which tells me
that I lost them at animal byproducts. I
consider explaining this in further detail, and then realize that it would be a
fruitless attempt. This is followed by uncomfortable silence, and then the
person smiles at me in disbelief and says, “You sure you don’t wanna
hamburger?”
Then, there are the times when the typical conversation
deviates from its usual script into something that is much more embarrassing.
There I was standing amongst five of six of my colleagues at a yearly office
party when once again the shocking topic of my vegetarianism came up. After the normal comments filtered through,
see above paragraph for reference, the conversation was joined by an outsider
who had only heard part of what we were discussing. He looked at me with earnest Southern
gentlemanly manners and asked, “Are you a virgin?” The silence that followed
was deafening. It was clear from the
look on his face that he thought he had asked me something quite different and
was unaware of his Freudian slip. My
face turned brighter than the San Marzano tomatoes I love so dearly, and the
people in the room erupted with laughter.
By the time he had realized his blunder, it was too late. To his credit, he was trying to ask if I was
Vegan, a topic he was truly interested in discussing. That conversation never occurred, but the
accidental slip up gets retold every year at the annual office party.
Moral of this post:
In the South, you do not just become a vegetarian. It goes against a way of life. So, if you ever happen to find yourself in
that position, do be aware of three things: 1) Everyone assumes you starve
yourself to death. 2) You will forever defend that chicken and fish are indeed
considered meat. 3) You might get asked if you are a virgin…erm, I meant Vegan.
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