Off meat.

I'm officially off meat. Forever. I've had issues with handling meat, preparing it, eating it and digesting it since I was small. For moral reasons (and for the simple fact that I don't really love it) I have thought seriously about getting off meat permanently for a long time.

I quit red meat about two years ago and have felt better, but after learning about how animal protein isn't really necessary, and how it's actually harmful to our health (causes heart disease and cancer to grow), and how hard it is on the environment to manufacture, I'm convinced now is the time to stop. I'm just ready to live a healthier lifestyle.

You would think that Chris, my carnivore husband, would be devastated by this decision. Actually, though, this was all his idea. We watched Forks Over Knives (it's on instant Netflix) and did some of our own research and decided to try a whole foods plant-based diet for 30 days. We still have some dairy items in the fridge that I don't feel good about wasting, so we're finishing that off, but we are off meat, processed foods, artificial sugar and oil and most dairy for 30 days.

No one thinks their fat, no one is trying to lose weight. We just want to see how we feel. We want to see if it'll work with our lifestyle and budget, too.

Once the 30 days is up, Chris may eat some seafood here and there and he might drink cow milk. I can't tell you his commitment level to this whole thing, because I'm not sure. But as for me, I can say with confidence I don't want meat, and unless I can find a local farm nearby, I really don't feel good about buying dairy. (Watch Vegucated, also on Netflix,  if you don't already know what goes on in factory farms.)  I will have a candy bar at the end of 30 days. I can tell you that much.

So this, friends, is the reason for the sudden influx of vegan recipe pins.  I have been sharing some of our favorite new recipes over on my other blog, in case you're interested. I'm dedicated to keeping things fun and interesting in the kitchen. I can't eat a salad for every meal and nuts for every snack.

Even though it's a lot of extra work and dishes, it's already paying off. I love how I feel after a green smoothie for dinner. I'm not bogged down anymore. I feel like working out, even after I eat. We don't own a scale, but I can feel my pants are a little loose. It's only been a week, so I'm trying to ensure I'm getting all of the calories and protein I need (this can be a struggle when meat is no longer a factor). I'll keep you posted, blog world. 

Eating healthy: update.

The last couple months, Chris and I have opted for a healthier lifestyle. This includes (but is not limited to) running more, lifting free weights, dancing via the Kinect, reading more books, making more goals, traveling, and of course the most unfortunate of them all: eating better.

I like food. A lot. Sweet, salty, bitter, rich...really anything delicious. A salad is something you will seldom see me order in a restaurant (by seldom I mean never). It's so unsatisfying. Even with lots of stuff on top, it's still just rabbit food. Flavorless, gritty leaves.

BUT. With this new-found life we'd decided to gallantly adopt, I thought I'd try to recover from my hate of salad by making one topped with seasoned grilled chicken, pickled beets, baby corn and other favorite yummies. If I can dress it up enough maybe I will forget its true identity?

Wide-eyed and optimistic, I waltzed into the store and plucked all the ingredients for a salad that was bound to be life changing. I went through the self checkout, grabbed my bags, put my cart away and headed out to the car. A woman chased after me, arms in the air, yelling "Ma'am! Maaaa'aaam!" (Sidenote: I hate being a ma'am.) She was an employee (a seriously dedicated one) at the store--she noticed I left my lettuce in the cart. I checked my receipt and sure enough, I didn't even pay for it.

Subconscious slip? Maybe somewhere deep in my soul I thought that if I "forgot" the lettuce Chris would be as relieved as I was and would offer to get (greasy, delicious, salad-less) takeout from the Mexican restaurant down the street. But the leafy green medley found its pompous way into my grasp once again. So I went inside, paid for it and headed home.

I got to the house, took off my coat and boots, set down my bags and greeted my husband and hyper dog. I started grilling the chicken and compiling the salad toppings. I couldn't find the lettuce. WHERE IS THE DAMN LETTUCE THIS TIME I shouted. Chris came in the room, saw that I was pissed, and helped me look for the lettuce. "Here it is! You put it in the fridge already!"

"Uh, no. That's the salad that we never ate from TWO WEEKS AGO."

The lettuce that was already in the fridge had been my attempt at making amends with rabbit food weeks ago. Clearly it went well.

I examined it and tried to decide if it was okay enough for human consumption. It looked soggy, the edges were already browned. No-go. I went to the garage and frantically checked inside, outside and underneath my car. No salad to be found.

"HOLY $&*@%$ I left the ___&*^$ at the store. AGAIN."

Chris offered to go back and get it. Not to get Mexican food or some sort of drive-through supper in a sack. This guy is stronger than I thought.

I got in the car, slammed my door and headed back to the store. I was pissed. Just so angry with myself for being so absent-minded (or subliminally stupid, thinking I could avoid this salad saga). I found the woman who rang up my lettuce the last time I left it. I tapped her shoulder and said with humility "Did I leave my salad here again?"

"Yeeesss..you sure did. You must not want it that bad."

That woman knows me so well.