There was a time in my life (six days ago) when I wanted to be a vegetarian. I was under the impression that going vegetarian would be easy — you just stop eating meat and start eating vegetables. People told me that you would gain so much from it. I thought that everything wrong with my life would be fixed: I would have clear skin, I would be over all the men who have done me wrong, my grades would skyrocket, my hair would grow eighty inches and I’d lose thirty pounds. Instead, all I got was heartache and disappointment. This is the story of how I went vegetarian for twenty-eight hours and failed miserably.
My First Meal
So I start my vegetarian times at Chipotle — the land of e. coli and credit card theft. I recall that Chipotle offers a lot of vegetarian options. I enter the line, and the woman greets me with a warm aura that resembles that of a well done steak. However, to my dismay, when I admit that it’s my first day of vegetarianism, she tells me that the veggies have more calories than the meats. I consider getting my old burrito instead.
I have no idea that this is a possibility, but sticking to my guns I continue through, getting the higher calorie option of vegetables. She adds the veggies to the bowl, giving me a healthy serving.
“You’ll like it,” she promises.
This is the moment when I learn that people lie to you. I have never, in my whole twenty years of life on planet Earth, feel more betrayed. Clearly she wants the world to burn because every agonizing bite of those vegetables makes me crave my burrito with extra sour scream and extra meat.
My Second Meal
For my second meal I decide to take matters into my own hands and cook myself. I know what you’re thinking. “Edmund you don’t cook.” Well guess what, giving up meat makes you do some crazy shit. I go to Giant and purchase rice and lots of vegetables.
I prepare myself the meal consisting of sweet tea, fried rice, and lots of miscellaneous greens. Surprisingly, leaving on the cooking channel when I sleep taught me a lot because I make instinctive choices in the cooking segment. However, I find myself hungry, even after a second plate.
My Third Meal
Late at night I become insanely hungry once again. Starving for attention and food, I text all of my friends begging them to go on a late night adventure to get food.
All of them turn me down and I am left with no option other than to go myself. I traverse across the darkness that is George Mason University’s campus at night to my car. I buckle my seat belt, hearing my stomach roar. It calls me a bitch for starving it and not giving it meat, but I buckle down and drive to Taco Bell.
I order myself the Nacho Belle Grande, asking for beans instead of meat. Slowly, I eat the food, trying to savor every bite of the meatless chips. I ponder my life choices and how I reach this point.
Out of curiosity I ask my friend if it is vegetarian to give a blowjob. She tells me “as long as the dick is grass fed.”
The Breaking Point
Let me paint you a picture. It’s the crack of dawn (12:20 p.m.), I have just risen from bed and patiently wait in a line for Panera. When I reach the end of the line, my favorite employee greets me and asks me if I want my usual salad. Me, thinking optimistically that the universe supports me and all my endeavors, believes that the salad is just lettuce and friends.
Imagine my surprise when bacon and grilled chicken cover the entire salad, tainting it with the evils of meat. My heart sinks, my eyes pop open, and I have a lowkey panic attack. I should also mention that I have the personality that if I pay for it I am eating it.
That’s how my vegetarian adventure ends. I take a bit of that bacon infused salad topped with that chili lime whatever the fuck ranch dressing and I know it’s over. Orgasmic does not do the feeling justice.
What I Have Learned
I blame myself. I also want to say this to all vegetarians out there: props to you. This was by far one of the hardest things I have had to do my entire life. I gave up meat — all meat — for twenty eight hours. I lasted only a day and four hours without the sensation of my tongue tasting the wonders of salted protein. I can’t give up meat — chicken, turkey, dick, steak, and sausage — I need it. I’m a omnivore and I’m proud.