The Smoking Vegan

And to think, it all started with my refrigerator going.

When I moved to the apartment in my new mill town that I currently reside in, I moved in by myself, anxiously awaiting my boyfriend, B, to join me in three months time. Sure, there were a few quirks (i.e. the knobs on my new stove being installed backward, making every meal an adventure), but nothing too terribly detrimental. Nothing I couldn’t handle, and certainly nothing that bothered me enough to be considered a problem, or much more than something to laugh at. However, that all changed when I opened my refrigerator door to find the contents to be only slightly cooler than room temp. A discovery that was especially disconcerting considering the already sauna-level heat of June filling my rooms. I called my landlord, she had it fixed and simply said the freezer portion of cooling air that is designed to cool the fridge had been blocked due to over-freezing/freezer burn/ice chunks blocking the airway southward.

Long story short, the gentleman that came to remedy the situation came equipped with a hair dryer and plenty of free time to melt said ice chunks. This, of course resulted in me doing just the same in the weeks to follow. Anyway.

After expunging the moldy, melty, putrid foods that occupied my quirky appliance, it was clear a big shopping expedition was in my future. I remember that day I had been talking to and thinking a lot about my older sister, N, and her husband, C, who are both very beautifully devoted vegans. I thought of how lovely it was as an idea, how I always loved the food they shared with me and how their food never filled me with the bloating, sweaty regret of other types of foods. (Foods like meaty stews, mac n cheese, fish n chips, cheesy pizzas, burgers etc…)

That’s when it hit me; now was the perfect time to attempt the lifestyle.

I was out living on my own, so I had complete control over the foods in my cabinets, over the foods I made for myself. My mother wasn’t living with me, creating temptation with the old lifestyle we shared of convenience and boxed/instant foods, and if I failed there was no one living with me to see/judge the rise and fall of my attempts. I remember thinking of how the restaurant I worked at may tempt me, but in reality, they made mostly rich, large seafood plates that weren’t particularly up my alley as it was. Naturally, I could still have french fries.

Not to mention, my refrigerator had just been reborn. And that was decidedly that.

Sure, it hasn’t exactly been five years or any amount of time that is close to being impressive on the general scale. And sure I have made the mistake of accidentally ingesting things like worcestershire sauce (anchovies, who knew), or the occasional canned soup (why do they ruin a good veggie minestrone with parmesan? Such a waste), but the important thing is that I try my best. And God forbid I fail at all/any of this and fall off the wagon (recently had such a nightmare and woke up sweaty and guilty), I believe that any amount of animal product I deny now will have been worth the effort. And feeling so good in the interim from better eating is certainly worth trying again.

...Plus I still smoke cigarettes, so I'll take any health I can get.