Accidental Vegetarianism

I'm not a vegetarian. I had always wanted to be one, mainly because every animal I've ever met has tugged at my heartstrings . But, when it came down to it, I never managed to put down the burger.

Here's why: I LOVE meat. Rather, I *used* to love meat.

It started with ham. I've always, always HATED ham. It smells fantastic - the idea of it is divine. But the reality is that it makes me nauseous, without fail. I'd notice that my food tasted off, ask what was in it and find out ham was part of the mix. It was okay though - bacon and pork were still divine.

Next came chicken. If chicken tastes like, well, chicken, I spit it out. It gets my gag reflex going. Drowned in sauces, it isn't too bad, but boiled chicken makes me ill.

It's not like I'm imagining the little slaughtered animals. No. It just turns in my mouth. It's like eating something that is about to give you food poisoning. "I thought that tasted off..." Then you spend the next two days writing in agony on the bathroom floor, trying desperately to aim the proper end of yourself toward the toilet.

Eventually all poultry started giving me trouble, then pork, and I convinced myself that if I could eat fish and big, juicy steaks, I would make a fine vegetarian.

But tonight, it happened. The lovely beefy-meaty marinara sauce my boyfriend made for our spaghetti dinner turned on me. I hope this hasn't spread to steak, but I fear that I might slowly phase out all meat entirely.

I guess I need to start adjusting my diet, so I don't end up looking like one of those hollow-eyed vegans with the dark under-eye circles and pale, pale skin.