Lent- An Experiment

I suppose it started out of curiosity. Could I stop eating meat without sacrificing my health or worse, my taste buds? For quite some time I have been trying to decrease the amount of meat in my diet. This decision came about for two reasons. One, I came to the conclusion that it’s just not healthy. There is no reason for a girl my size, with my lifestyle, to consume as much meat as I do. I don’t work on a farm or engage in hard manual labor. There is no need for me to eat a ½ pound of meat with every meal and yet I do. Secondly, I figured it would be a great way to challenge myself. Not just a challenge of wheel power, of which I admittedly have none, but a challenge to expand my cooking horizons. Thus, with many reservations I entered into this experiment: Lent, 40 days without meat.

My first week went as follows:

Day one was a complete failure. Like most gluttons, I never think about what I put in my mouth. I only care that there is something there, something tasty. Not surprisingly, I forgot about lent a whole day into it and unwittingly ate a prosciutto sandwich. Only later when I was explaining to a friend that I had chosen to give up meat for Lent did another friend remind me of our lunch and my sin. (I should make it clear this experiment has nothing to do with religion).

Day two I managed to avoid eating meat but like any addict began to feel the itch. I started to crave things like pastrami sandwiches, which I don’t even eat on a regular basis but nonetheless wanted purely because I couldn’t have them. I begged people to tell me to cheat or to give up. Having convinced two friends to also give up meat, I attempted to coerce them to break Lent with me. It felt like a strange and familiar scene on the show Intervention, where the people beg their families to help them out. “Just to get by,” they’d say. “I’ll have a piece of meat if you have a piece of meat.” I said. “It won’t count. I cheated yesterday so I might as well quit tomorrow. Anyhow, this will be the last piece. Promise!” I pleaded and pleaded but they stayed strong so I refrained, but only to save face.

Day three sucked. Traveling and eating out sucks when you can’t eat meat. For one, all you do is look at all the delicious meat items you could of and should have been eating had it not been for your stupid Lent idea. Secondly, all of the vegetarian items, and by all I mean the singular vegetarian item, which you are forced to eat because everything else has chicken on it, sucks. I had been traveling on this particular day and found it very hard to find anything edible to at the airport. Not that there is anything palatable about airport food to begin with. Still, this felt like I had gone from the bottom of the barrel to the sad sediments that were stuck to the barrel and since grown strange life forms. Day three sucked and that’s all there is to say.

Day four was markedly better. I didn’t cheat. For dinner I made Cajun catfish and sautéed spinach. I was quite pleased and didn’t miss meat.

Day five I am dreaming about meat. I dreamt that my friend Sami and I were hanging out and about to share a meal. Not just any meal I might add, but Bon Chon Chicken in its fried perfection. Right as I’m about to take a bite my alarm goes off and I want to scream. This is torture.

Day six I’m already tired of fish, which is expensive I might add. I miss meat. I wish I could have a burger. I question my sanity for even thinking this was a good idea in the first place. I pass all these signs in the street with meat on them and grumble. I pass street vendors cooking and I stop to stick my face in the smoke smelling the meat cook as it wafts in the air. I get advertisements in the corner of my gmail for new recipes of things I can’t eat like lamb. 

Day seven I’m starting to get used to not eating meat. I still crave it, however my body is fine or better than fine. I feel great. I’ve lost weight. I know this because my clothes are loose and it’s a little annoying because that’s not why I started this. Then I remind myself of why this all began, because I wanted to try something new and challenge myself in a way that would be difficult. Plus, I figure I’m saving 1 cow, 3 chickens, and at least 4 pigs in the process. PETA should be giving me an award I think to myself.

The first week was the hardest. Since then, I’ve cheated two other times. Once while out to dinner with friends because well, you HAVE TO SHARE TAPAS! The other time was a matter of life or death. I hadn’t eaten dinner and by the time I arrived in D.C. everything was closed except for this one college hot dog vendor. It was either eat this hot dog or kill someone. Because when I’m hungry it’s like an episode of when animals attack, nothing is getting in my way and someone is getting hurt. Again, I think I deserve a humanitarian award for making sure I’m well fed at all times.

Anyhow, the experiment continues. Three weeks to go, and countless morsels of meat refused. It’s been a struggle yet a worthwhile one. I have found that I like not eating meat ALL the time. I realize how much I play into my environment and rather than eat what I want or what’s good for me I default to- what’s the easiest option? More often than not it’s chicken. I’m so sick of chicken. Every menu is crazy for chicken! When all is said and done I’ll be glad to regain some normality but I’m happy to test my limits and see how my diet is forced to change when I eliminate something I find so essential such as meat. I think the only other thing that would be harder for me to give up is cheese. For that I am grateful. At least I have cheese.