29 September 2013

Vegan Guts

images via

To be vegetarian, would be no trouble at all. I have never, not at 4 nor now, needed coaxed into the realm of veggies and legumes. More so, it's meat, so heavy and human. I wish I could say it were a moral decision, a nonviolent way of life- Thats a wonderful mentality. For me it's the texture. Perhaps a hint to the fact that it once had a heart, but mostly the muscles and blood. And chickens! Those are such nasty little birds. Pecking around with their dirty, scratchy talons.  Even the free-range fellas, to see one lying there cooked, ankles yet bound... arms wings and legs and belly and all, a once-live being. I can't put my finger on it. Often, it strikes me as just terribly unnecessary. Gross, frankly.

Vegetarian, sure thing!  To be vegan, though, seems like a sacrifice.  I survived my sojourn in France on camembert and baguettes (and gummy candies, to be truthful).  I drink milk like my bones are begging me. But flash forward, and bear with me. If I'm going with my gut, it's time for a change. I visited an allergist a few weeks ago for my troubles with shrimp, among other not-so pleasantries. As it becomes, I am not allergic to shrimp... instead, on another note, he thinks I am lactose intolerant. Apparently, it's really common. One can develop an allergy or intolerance at any point, they say. Sounds likely, but Pshh! The answer to all my ill feelings? It's been really hard for me to accept that better days are possibly ahead and the solution could be so clear, because I so commonly feel like crap. And strangely, it's not the sacrifice. It's not that the temptation for dear dairy is so troublesome. I would give it up in a heartbeat to never again have a day like yesterday.  I know I sound full-on batshit crayyzy, (listen to the doc!) but I really just doubt it to be true. "I think they call that... denial," my mom says.

Phil keeps reprimanding me like I'm a relapsing milkaholic. After a torturously wasted crisp autumn Saturday like yesterday, I'm finally ditching dairy.   (For the time being, anyway.)  I don't intend to take on a fully vegan diet, but lactose intolerance sure makes it a lot simpler.
In the day(s) after surviving a digestive deathbed or what feels like the headache equivalent, I always have an exploding gratitude for wellness.  I'm a real live girl, and I bounce from the walls exclaiming how glorious it feels to feel okay.  The day after death puts a lot into perspective. I announce each time, what a hell it'd be to be chronically ill.  To which Phil responds, "It takes one to know one."  I do feel like junk an awful lot, but to feel more bad days than good, I cannot begin to imagine.


sara grace said...

Ugh, I feel your pain. I too, think I've acquired a lactose intolerance. However, it's just with some things like ice cream.... But how awful is that!

rooth said...

If you're looking for a milk substitute in coffee, almond milk is wonderful (I think). If you'd like, we can hunt for vegan recipes together!

Erin said...

I dated a vegan (strict, strict vegan. he also didn't eat soy or oil, so that was another set of things to think about) for about 6 years, so I had plenty of opportunity to jump ship. In reality, I landed on pescetarian for a good portion of that time, and now I'm mostly vegetarian (we're working on chicken). I just cannot give up cheese. Even with lactose intolerance of my own (we're twins!), stinky bleu is like my life's blood. I've never liked milk or beef or pork, so those aren't hard things to live without. Cheese and sushi? I get all mama bear protective over those.
I'm really impressed you're sticking to the drs orders! Good luck, I'm sending lots of positive, non-dairy vibes! xo

Lauren said...

Following the internet rabbit hole from Rooth to here. I have a 14 year old who, upon eating his normal portion of some chicken dish this week said, "Needs more meat."

And the only way we can do meatless Monday is with fish. ;) It's both easy and hard to feed a 14 year old boy. But best of luck with all of your diet "schtuff." I think the hardest part is not as much the giving up of stuff but the feeling like you have to.