Don’t get it twisted.
I like the occasional well-cooked steak or pork chop. Maybe a burger every now and again. But for the most part, meat grosses me the hell out. Not necessarily for all of the tree-hugging granola-loving reasons that motivate many vegetarians to become vegetarians. Meat just simply grosses me out, man.
It’s probably my mother’s fault (as everything always is). If we were having chicken for dinner and someone mentioned anything about the origin of said chicken (i.e…the fact that it was once a live, clucking, feather-filled being), she would immediately stop eating and become unable to finish dinner. I feel myself approaching this point in life.
So, I’m sure that it’s my mom’s fault, but meat just disgusts me.
I’ve had this conversation several times with various people. Most notably, my childhood friend, Chacea. Somehow, we always ended up on hamburger duty when cooking dinner for our families. I hate ground beef. Lucky for me, she loved to get her hands all up in the mix. She liked the feeling of it…the squish…the soft pliability of the meat in her hands. I thought she was afflicted.
I gagged at the mere smell of it.
Then I would throw up a little as I watched her squish it between her fingers.
Raw ground meat is one of the most revolting things that I am forced to face on a weekly basis. You see, My Gazelle loves tacos. If he could eat tacos every second night, and have pizza on the first, his life would be complete. As you know, I was put on this earth to make other people happy.
So I make him tacos. Often.
I’ve tried 80/20 ground beef, 93/7 ground beef, 90/10 ground beef, ground chicken, ground turkey, and even ground pork…aimlessly searching for a less-disgusting form of ground meat.
Just for the record, the 80/20 has the most disgusting squish of them all.
I hate ground meat even more with every taco night. I can’t even partake in the tacos that I so lovingly prepare anymore because I am too grossed out to eat the meat.
Burgers?
Forget about it!
Since My Gazelle is the po-po, his schedule is sporadic, and he works 3PM-1AM. On the nights when I am home alone, I am in heaven. Sure, sure…I miss him, I do. But I don’t have to eat meat when he’s not home. Nor do I have to touch meat when he’s not home. I’m not forced to deal with the carnivorous tendencies of my man. This is a meat-hater’s dream.
I’m perfectly happy with hummus. I love roasted chickpeas. Tofu? Heck yeah…as long as its the firm kind. But I still have to be able to eat fish. I love me some canned tuna.
I am just not sure how to transition from “vegetarian envy” to “real vegetarian”. I am also not sure how to effectively be a vegetarian living with a carnivore. It seems like a lot of preparation, and a lot of extra groceries…and a lot of extra cashola.
But I just can’t stand that 80/20 squish anymore.
