Today I registered for a meeting and ticked “yes” for Special Dietary Needs. “Vegetarian”, I typed, and hit submit. It was a strange feeling. A kind of balloon of unfamiliarity and small elation.
Tomorrow I turn 40.
Tomorrow my husband and I will cook meat for the last time.
That’s the plan, anyway. And only because I said I wanted croissants with bacon for my birthday breakfast.
We haven’t told the kids, or anyone else, that we have made up our minds to go vegetarian.
We haven’t made up our minds exactly how vegetarian we will be – will fish be included? We definitely won’t be vegan.
We will not tell my mum, who cooks a roast every Sunday for the extended family. I’ve seen her dealing with various friends’ and family members’ dietary restrictions for years and I’m not making her do it again.
We will not tell friends who invite us around for dinner. Firstly because I myself resent pandering to people’s self-imposed (i.e. not medically necessary) restrictions, and secondly because that never happens anyway. It’s funny how you never get invited out for meals when you come as a package deal of five, including two adolescent appetites.
We’re doing it mostly for the planet. This world is in such an apocalyptic mess we’d like to start reducing our contribution to the disaster. It feels like there’s not much we can do, but we can do this.
If we lose weight and become healthier, that would be a nice side benefit.
I may or may not post updates. Don’t watch this space.