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The vegetarian thing

Several people have asked me how “the vegetarian thing” has been going, so I thought it might be nice to post an update here. As a recap, I’ve not eaten meat since Aug. 10, 2009, and I made the conscious decision to not eat it anymore on Aug. 13, 2009. (For three days I had just accidentally not eaten it. I wasn’t actually trying to avoid it.)

For the first month or so, my biggest problem was the gassiness that comes with eating vegetarian. Beans are a great source of protein and I was eating a lot, and I guess my body just wasn’t used to it. So I hit the simethicone hard, and things have pretty much worked themselves out now. I do still take simethicone after I eat a meal that mainly consists of beans, just to do everyone around me a favor.

After about six weeks, I realized I had gained about five or six pounds. Whether it’s my scale or my body, my weight always fluctuated by a pound or two, usually coming in at 124 or 125 pounds. Now I’m a constant 130. Which I suppose isn’t really that bad, seeing as how I’m 5’8″. But there are a few shirts I can’t wear anymore, and I’ve had to relegate a few pairs of pants to the “weekend” pile, if you know what I mean.

At first I was pretty upset about the weight gain, but in all honestly I feel really good. I don’t feel fat, and if I have to go out and buy a few new pairs of pants, oh well. There are bigger things in my life I could spend my time worrying about, and five pounds really just don’t seem worth it. Even at 125 I felt like I needed to tone a bit, and I still do, so I’ll probably end up using the gym membership I have until February. Maybe. I’ve had it for a few weeks and haven’t gone, though, so we’ll see.

As far as the difficulty in not eating meat, there really isn’t any unless I’m super starving. And even then it’s not that I miss meat, it’s just that I feel like I’m on the verge of a low-blood sugar crash and it would be so much easier to stop at McDonald’s and grab a cheeseburger instead of going home and fixing spinach or a veggie burger.

Some people have suggested that instead of keeping with the vegetarianism, I instead seek out locally grown beef, chicken and pork so that I don’t have to worry about the way they’re treated or the hormones that are pumped into them. And while I think that is a great way for meat eaters to get their food, I just don’t think it would work for me. I know myself, and that would be a slippery slope. It would not be a stretch for me to be out at a restaurant and order a meat dish just because I was a meat eater again. Years ago I stopped eating beef after I read My Year of Meats by Ruth Ozeki (a great book, by the way—one of my favorites), but it didn’t take more than a few months before I fell off the wagon after numerous dinners with friends and family members where beef was served.

Ian and I just watched Food Inc. tonight, and I will say that if I wasn’t a vegetarian already I would have made the commitment tonight after seeing that film. I know there are a lot of problems with genetically engineered vegetables, and I understand, as Ian put it, that I’m not doing the world any favors by eating them.

But I do know that I am not encouraging the inhumane treatment of chickens, pigs and cows. I am not responsible for the way they are crushed to death, made to walk on broken legs or thrown into grinders while still alive and crying, scared and helpless.

And like I’ve told a few people who have told me that my not eating meat doesn’t matter: Just because I can’t fix the entire problem with our food industry doesn’t mean I shouldn’t stop eating meat. Not being able to do everything perfectly doesn’t mean I should ignore what feels right to me.

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Women working hard to get ahead? Pure hilarity!

I just finished watching “The Devil Wears Prada,” and I am dumbfounded by the suggestion that Andi trying to make the most of a doors-opening career opportunity translates to she’s a shallow, soul-less bitch who has sold out because she missed her boyfriend’s birthday party and has to bring her boss coffee at 6:30 a.m one morning.

I could get into the whole “men put their careers first every day” speech, but I don’t even want to compare the two now. I don’t really see what Andi did wrong* in busting her ass striving for perfection for the insufferable Miranda—OK, she had to work long hours and the pay was shitty. HELLO? First Job? Hi, this is LIFE CALLING. Let me conference in Paying Your Dues.

And the worst part? At the end of the movie,** she fucking ADMITS to her boyfriend that he was right! And he actually condescends to her that all she gained from the experience was, to paraphrase his words, “some shoes, scarves, dresses…”

Oh, right, I must have missed the fact that a great recommendation from one of the most respected editors in magazines is worth shit when you’re trying to become a journalist.

But, you know, she’s a girl, so she must have been killing herself just for some Jimmy Choos, never mind the fact that she knew and cared SHIT about fashion when she started and she actually TOLD you the reason she took the job in the first place was because, hey, yeah, over here…it’s a great career move.

Pfft. Silly woman. How can you care about your career, what with having all those ovaries and shit?


*Ok, she returned that British dude’s flirtations, which was shitty, but I’m focusing on her Miranda-related moves in this post.
**Sorry, if you haven’t seen the movie by now you shouldn’t care that I’m spoiling the end

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Spider pig, spider pig, does whatever a spider pig does…

Ian and I saw The Simpsons Movie today, and it was freaking awesome. There were a few random things we thought were a bit, well, random, but the unexpected add-ons made the movie totally worth it. Laugh out loud worth it.

And I say this not just as a Simpsons fan, but as someone who NEVER goes to the movie theater. Seriously. The last movie we saw in the theater was Children of Men in December, I think, and before that it had probably been a year since we’d been to the theater. And even then it was an indie flick at the Belcourt, I’m sure.

So The Simpsons Movie is definitely recommended, even if you’re not hardcore fans like we are. But we definitely are. Ian has just about every season that’s out on DVD and random pieces of Simpsons paraphenalia can be found throughout the house. (But not in a weird, overwhelming way like it’s part of our decor, don’t worry. We’re not those people.)

Anyway, growing up with The Simpsons so ingrained in our culture (I think I still have my Bart-on-a-skateboard earrings from when I was 10 somewhere), it felt like a good payoff to see the movie done well. People in the theater actually applauded when it ended, and I can’t say I didn’t join in the collective giddiness of “Thank Jebus; that was awesome!!”

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I could never be a Simpson

Ian’s avatar turned out much better, even though he looks like he’s 12. But that’s better than looking like a 40-year-old shemale, which is what mine looks like.
I could never be a SimpsonI could never be a Simpson

You just can’t accurately animate awesomeness like us, I guess.

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No Biscuits for us

Ian and I had plans to go to Chattanooga this weekend to see the Montgomery Biscuits play the Chattanooga Lookouts (that’s minor league baseball for the sporting impaired), but with the 90% chance of rain and the 100% chance of me feeling like asscrap, we canceled our trip. I was able to cancel the hotel reservation with no fee, so all we’re out is the $20 for the tickets. We’re guessing the game’s going to be rained out tomorrow anyway. And if it wasn’t canceled, lord knows sitting out in the rain all night wouldn’t have improved my current cold situation any.

So it’s a weekend of rest, relaxation and probably a trip to the walk-in clinic tomorrow for me. I need to get some freaking Flonase and cough medicine before Ian cuts my head off.

Oh, and speaking of that (sort of)—all of you out there need to rent The Illusionist. And don’t give up on it if you’re halfway through and think it sucks. It pays off at the end, I promise.

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