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My meat funeral

I’ve come to the realization that I shouldn’t eat meat. I’ve given you my take of my plant based diet in The Reluctant Vegan post awhile back. I’ve been sticking to it. Sort of. So I don’t always eat plants. SUE ME! I like bread. And baked things. So sometimes there’s butter and eggs in things.

I found out the hard way that despite all my denial, I am indeed lactose intolerant. And possibly beef intolerant.

I have felt so good not eating any dairy or meat these last few months. But I thought I would just cheat. A little.

Father’s Day in our house meant meat, cheese and beer. The McSweetie trifecta. He loves his meat and cheese. And honestly, there’s been a lot of tofu and lentils in the house and fish, and he’s been very compliant. Not complaining at dinner time. Just eating what he’s given. He deserved a treat.

So I started the day with bacon and sausage for his big papa breakfast. The pancakes were gluten free. But everyone likes them, so it didn’t count.

Before dinner,  I got out our special artisan cheese we can get from Seattle’s Beecher’s cheese. The best cheddar ever. I made a nice cheese plate with good bread and crackers and fruit. Then I made some steaks with baked potatoes and homemade herbed butter, complete with real bacon pieces. Let’s say, I helped myself to quite a bit of cheese, butter, some more butter, a little bit more cheese, and a little bit of steak.

I felt pretty good. So the next day I tempted fate, and had some left overs. Hey- I’m a frugal gal, remember? I don’t let things go to waste!

I might have, maybe, I’m saying, maybe had some more butter the next day, and MAYBE a little more cheese. Quite possibly, there was a little meat leftover, and I snacked on one of the rib-eye bones. Uhm, did I mention that I marinated the rib-eyes in garlic, cabernet, and brown sugar and black pepper? It was good to say the least.

Well, by the fourth day, my intestines had enough debauchery. They revolted. I won’t go into the details. It wasn’t pretty. But I will say that if you remember that Ben Stiller movie Mystery Men and the character Spleen, that was me. My children banned me from their rooms. It was like a cloud of Pig Pen from Peanuts following me around. I didn’t feel so great either.

He’s not pretty you say? Neither was I last week.

I didn’t really want to leave the house. Okay, enough. That’s all I need to share about that part.

Geeze kids- make mom feel bad! It’s not like YOU haven’t stunk too ya know!

So in conclusion; I mourn meat. And cheese. And butter. I’m kind of sad, that unless I want to experience the bloat and nastiness of those few days, I will have to avoid these delights. Hot fudge sundae? No. Prime Rib with a side of aus jus? Not gonna happen. Cheese Fondue? OH dear lord, just stick me on the toilet now.

I realize that feeling good, not having to worry about where the nearest bathroom is, means more than just something rich and creamy. I enjoy many of my vegan options. I love vegetables. I love grains. There’s fabulous food out there. I’m just sad for what I don’t think I’ll be enjoying for some time. Maybe I’ll try again one day. Maybe my system will change. Since my 20s, I’ve known I’ve been lactose intolerant. College binges to Dennys late at night for hot fudge sundaes or cheesy nachos made in my apartment watching the early episodes of ER with George Clooney, only to have an upset stomach the next day, was clearly the writing on the wall I tried to ignore.

the crispy onions on the side are clearly mocking me.

I can probably cheat a little too without going overboard. I might have OD’d just a bit on the cheese and butter part.

RIP fromage. It was fun while it lasted. (okay, clearly not so much for me, but just let me be!)

If you need to find me, I’ll be at Whole Foods getting all my plant friendly, vegan goodies.