It started innocently enough, picking up a copy of Dr. Weil's magazine, an issue that was specifically geared towards women. I browsed through it lightly, and found a subject that interested me: difficult menstruation. My period has never been regular, save for the time I was on oral contraception. I didn't like oral contraception. If there was ever a day that I forgot to take my pill, the next day would be murder on my ovaries.
I'd spot bleed, and my uterus would ache. I thought the problem was taking the wrong kind of oral contraception, and with a few other reasons to nudge me back to the doctor's office I was put on a different pill. This one didn't work either. In fact, it was worse than my first pill! I suffered needlessly for months, because I was enjoying the fact that I menstruated as if on cue every single month at the same time. It was like clock work; predictable and never snuck up on me. I was armed and ready for it, but my uterus would have a very hard time forgiving me when I forgot to take it.
Dr. Weil's article suggested to go vegetarian for the week leading up to and during menstruation because it supposedly helps with the unpleasantness of PMS. The article didn't really go too far into how it helps, but I was willing to give it a shot. My first week of going veg lasted for two days when I realized I was starving myself to death and had absolutely no self control over my compulsive junk food binging. Deplorable.
I ended up eating bagels with cream cheese, with a slice of tomato on them for lunch. Ramen noodles sometimes made an appearance, along with plenty of spaghetti with plain sauce. It was pretty awful. I really had no clue what I was doing, and it showed. Vegans and vegetarians alike who were seasoned enough would have laughed at my embarrassing attempt at what is becoming more than just a diet, but a lifestyle.
This lifestyle intrigued me briefly in February, but nothing really hooked me into giving a go for longer than two days. This was the case until Super Bowl rolled around, and I was insistent on buying wings for the big game. We had our wings, along with spring rolls filled with pork, chicken and who knows what else. My husband and I were watching primarily for the commercials, much like everyone else that doesn't give two craps about football.
While the game was on I did a little bit of searching around on various news sites, checking out their top Super Bowl game commercials from the 90's, and in my search I stumbled upon something interesting. It was a PETA ad that wound up banned (big shocker) from being aired during the Super Bowl for its supposed lewd content. I was intrigued by the ad, and visited their site - goveg.com (which I have linked on this blog, on the side).
At first I rolled my eyes at some of their "facts" and their campaign for "sea kittens," but it at least planted the seed of doubt into my brain. The first thing that triggered was that I was staring at a cute, adorable picture of a little pig with the headline "10 reasons why you shouldn't eat pigs." Note that it doesn't say pork, it says pigs.
I had already eaten part of a pig that evening, without even thinking about it. The thought never crossed my mind about what it was, expect that it was chewy and tasted alright. I was never a fan of pork, quite possibly due to the fact that my father had made one to many ham steaks while I was living at home and I was completely sick of the texture and saltiness of the flesh, but I digress. Here I was, staring at a picture of a pig and thinking, "aw...so cute."
If you had asked me to go out back, take an axe and chop a pig up for supper I would most certainly decline, and vehemetly .
I had fond memories of when I was little, visiting horse shows and seeing stalls filled up with pigs, many of which were wearing clothing. They brought me great joy, seeing them up close and not because they were wearing funny hats but because they were pigs. I can't explain it, natural instinct designed me to look at a pig and feel happy. They bring a smile to my face, a reaction that is not forced but purely instinctive, and here I was chowing down on one and feeling like the biggest hypocrit.
The pigs at the show were cuter dressed up as little doctors and farmers (though I'd prefer them to not be dressed up at all), than being breaded and deep fried into golden nuggets. Growing up I had always wanted my own pig for company, not minding their bristle-covered bodies or the fact that sometimes their noses look snotty.
People in general grew up with the notion that pigs are dirty, even though the journalist in me (even at a young age) knew that the truth lies deeper. In short, you shouldn't listen to everything the television or media tells you. Pigs are naturally very clean animals, but no one would know this due to the way they're portrayed in books and on television. They get such a bum rap, even though I know that they've been known to save their family members.
To be continued...
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