The Reluctant Omnivore

I was some version of veg*n for fifteen years: ten years vegetarian, six months vegan, and five years lactose-free occasional-pescatarian. Now I craft most of my meals from the Paleo template, and I feel better than ever. Here’s my story.

I decided to stop eating animals when I was ten years old, snorkeling in the Florida Keys. Ever the overachiever, I tried to memorize the names of all the beautiful fish we saw, and something clicked when half the names were on the menu for dinner that evening. I started to put together that the meat we eat comes from animals, and this upset me because I loved animals — even the impassive and elusive fish.

I started reading about vegetarianism and I learned that vegetarians often had lower rates of heart disease and cancer, scourges that had claimed many close family members, including my mother. I read about how vegetarians had more energy, clearer skin, greater bone density. Then I learned about factory farms, and how these awful places were not only inhumane but also contributed heavily to the decline of the natural environment, as we traded rainforests and clean rivers for piles of dung and impossible amounts of methane.

I was sold. I stopped eating meat and my father proudly supported me, even joining my new crusade a few years later. We had already traded butter for margarine and this next step seemed like a natural progression in our healthy eating habits.

My aunt, a Stanford NICU nurse, warned that age ten was an especially tender point in my development to be toying with protein sources, and my math teacher went out of her way to make sure I ate a peanut butter sandwich every day at the 10am break. But I was stubborn and strong-willed, and fully committed to the path I had chosen. In fact, the naysayers just convinced me to stick to my guns and prove that I could succeed at this endeavor.

At first, I felt…fine. No different, really. As I trudged through my teenage years, my compassion towards animals increased, along with my pride in my own resolve to avoid animal products. I stopped purchasing leather. I wouldn’t eat gelatin, or meat broths, or anything flavored with fish sauce. In college, I discovered a terribly inconvenient lactose intolerance, and decided I might as well try out veganism, cutting out honey, eggs, butter, and all milk products. This was hard. I was a rower, practicing 5–6 days per week and lifting weights twice weekly, and I found myself jealous of the omelettes and scrambles my teammates made after practice. I felt tired often and was rarely satisfied after meals.

Ironically, my foray into veg*nism started with fish, and the slippery slope back to omnivorism was prompted by fish, too. I started integrating seafood back into my diet when I moved to New Zealand to study massage therapy, feeling that it was important to sample local cuisine and gratefully accept local hospitality, even if that included fish dinners. After all, I was living in a coastal town, and this was a far cry from factory farmed meats or processed meat by-products. My dad, an ardent Oregonian, had always been vocal about the health benefits of fresh fish, and it felt good to expand my culinary options.

I returned to the States and started a regular Bikram yoga practice in my early 20's, and one of the other students pressured me to stop eating fish again. At this point my main protein sources were peanut butter, canned chickpeas, and tempeh. I avoided fat at all costs, and my primary food group was pasta. I felt tired, a lot. Friends would remark on how pale I looked, with dark circles under my eyes. I was always cold, and caught walking pneumonia a couple times. I struggled with depression. My periods were incredibly painful and pretty irregular, and made me feel even more drained. To be very clear, I was not living a healthy life. I habitually slept less than six hours per night, drank alcohol almost daily, exercised obsessively, and frequently skipped meals. I’m sure I was deeply anemic, but I donated blood regularly and was never rejected on account of iron levels. I craved kale and cooked it a few times per week, but I could tell my body was still craving something that I wasn’t providing.

When I was 23 I started Chinese medicine school, and about halfway through the 4+ year program I took a diagnosis class with Professor Denise Hsu. During a class break Denise started describing vegetarians: tired, especially after meals; pale; difficult, scanty, or problematic menstruation; poor memory, mood, and vision; dry skin. That was me! She went on to point out that in China people would rarely eat a hamburger or a whole steak — instead, they would cut up a bit of pork into a pile of green beans, or stir fry chicken with a bevy of vegetables. That sounded do-able. She advised me to start with a little chicken and turkey to see how my digestion could handle the reintroduction of animal protein, but as soon as I cracked the door my body made it very clear that it wanted the reddest, rarest meat I could find. I was eating lamb carpaccio, prosciutto, and goat stew within a month, and the more meat I ate the more I felt my body begging for more.

A couple years later, the Paleo fad exploded. Initially I was skeptical — how could eating so much fat and animal protein be healthy? My whole life, doctors and nutritionists sang the praises of the almighty Food Pyramid and low-fat, moderate calorie diet plans. Weren’t saturated fat and cholesterol our mortal enemies? But a few respected colleagues started eating Paleo and raved about it. My partner at the time had a host of digestion issues so we decided to try it together, and were both stunned by the results. She immediately felt less heartburn and nausea, we both lost significant amounts of weight, and I experienced a massive spike in energy and good mood.

You could argue that I ate a particularly deficient version of a veg*n diet, but when I look at what my veg*n friends eat I unanimously notice a mass of simple carbohydrates (bread, pasta, sugar) and a surfeit of processed, manufactured foods. Too much of a veg*n diet consists of food that isn’t…real. Veg*n meat substitutes are crafted from wheat gluten or processed soy. I finally ditched margarine years ago when I realized it was artificially hydrogenated vegetable oil painted yellow to resemble the real thing. And most veg*n foods are fortified with the vitamins a body needs to thrive. Supplementing your diet with a handful of lab-made vitamins doesn’t seem as honest or as nourishing as eating food that is whole, nutrient-dense, and primed to sustain life.

Today, I follow a plant-based omnivorous diet, not unlike what Michael Pollan advocates in “In Defense of Food”, but light on grains, which I find tend to cause bloating and weight gain for me. Now, honey, eggs and butter are primary staples in my diet. I eat fat at every meal (including snacks) and have at least one serving of grass-fed or pastured meat almost daily. I keep a jar of lard in my fridge, just like my grandma did, and recently started experimenting with duck fat (and you should, too!) I primarily cook vegetables from my CSA or sourced from organic markets in my neighborhood, and my goal is five servings of produce per day.

As a practicing acupuncturist, I firmly believe that our human bodies are designed to run optimally on the fuel of animal products. Our teeth, our digestive tract, and our nutritional needs make this point clearly. Our brains benefit from omega-3 fatty acids, which are primarily found in fish and egg yolks. Our nervous system needs B vitamins and fats to function, and these are most readily available in animal products. Our bodies are built from the amino acids in proteins, and animal proteins supply these building blocks best. I could hyperlink sources on all of that, but the topic is contentious enough that I’ll let you do your own research and compare arguments. The most convincing argument for me came from the cravings and satisfaction of my own body.

I still feels pangs of guilt about eating animals. I avoid ordering meat in most restaurants, although I am fortunate to have access to Bay Area establishments that often include “happy meat” options from local, sustainable farms. I try to support eating or using the whole animal so that nothing goes to waste. But ultimately, I’ve made peace with the circle of life, the undeniable interdependence that fuels our ecosystem. Factory farms violate this interdependence, but so does the idea that animals should never be consumed as food. In so many arenas of my life I aspire to walking the middle path, and my food choices are no different. Every body is different, and I urge you to listen to yours. May we all choose food that nourishes our bodies, our communities, and our planet.