HEALTH | PLANT-BASED DIET| HUMOR | SELF-COMPASSION
Confessions of a Failed Vegan
Despite the desire to embrace a plant-based diet, my body rebelled.
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The first hint that I might one day be a vegan was when I was a baby sitting in my high chair. My mother was attempting to feed me meat.
I would chew and chew, then store the meat in the side of my mouth like a squirrel gathering nuts, ne’er to swallow till my mom got so frustrated she would put a napkin in front of my mouth and I’d spit it out.
A waste of Mom’s time, and no calories in during that session. Maybe that’s why I wound up short. I was never a big eater. But my parents weren’t giants either.
The high chair story is one of the most infamous tales of my childhood eating peculiarities. Maybe I was trying to tell my mom to give me more fiber.
I was constantly constipated, so she’d plop down a small bowl of prune compote (or baby food) after dinner as my “dessert” and to try and get me to eat it so I would poop.
