Why I’m a Vegetarian Liar

I’m a vegetarian, or at least that’s what I tell people. Really, though, its just a big fat lie. And really, I join the ranks of others who feel similarly to one varying degree or another.

I’ll not try to convert your dietary ways. Trust me, I wasn’t always a vegetable, I know what bacon tastes like. I know.

Besides, my vegetarianism is incomplete, imperfect, flawed and otherwise masking the fact that I’m just an omnivore in carrot’s clothing who happens to eat meat about 99.2% less than the average Mr. or Ms. American Tyrannohuman Rex. And I eat eggs, which, contrary to idiotic opinion, are not vegetables.

But I still claim the title, I still kick it with the veg-card when I go out to eat, when I’m invited to dinner parties, when I’m grubbing with family. Sorry, Gramgram, none of your passed-down-from-generations fried chicken for me, I’m a vegematarian. (Gramgram weeps…)

Why do I lie to Gramgram? Here it is, here’s the why. I don’t want to eat meat on your terms.

Most people don’t give a first, second, third or any power of a thought to where their meat comes from or how much of it they eat (or why that’s bad for you). I get it, organic, grass fed, free range, vegan, et cetera et al, that gobbledy gook’s expensive. I get it, if a meal doesn’t have meat its called a “side”. I get it, no worries, but while you may not be, I am a picky little princess.

So instead of causing a fuss, I claim vegetarian. So instead of getting asked to break-veg for this special meal, that amazing restaurant, I claim vegetarian. So instead of making anyone feel like they should go out and spend 1.5x — 4x more money cash hos on some Earth-hippy meat to satisfy my picky picky princess dietary requirements, I just say bring on the leafy stuff that doesn’t have a face.

So why am I a vegetarian even though I’m not? Because YOU can’t handle the truth and I don’t want hurt your feelers just because I’ve decided not to nom-gobble your meat.