Swatting Down the Insults

Breakfast: Oatmeal & raisins. Enough said.

For lunch I cooked up some whole wheat pasta. I had some marinara sauce, not much left, so I added a can of diced tomatoes. Now, I recently glanced at a breathless news item on some web portal that blared the warning that you should never eat canned tomatoes...something about eating tomatoes from the can will cause swift and immediate death. Although I have no doubt that some microscopic resin or another is sometimes found inside cans, I'll have to defer to the previous four generations of hundreds of millions of people who lived off of canned vegetables all their lives and make some tough, but common sense, choices. With crucifix in hand I poured a can of tomatoes into the sauce. To spice it up (although does marinara sauce with canned arsenic really need spicing?) I added some VBites Bio Gyro "Sausages". The sauce was quite good, and the sausages (which heretofore have been my favorite vegan food) were very tasty, but had a faint, unique sort-of sour aftertaste. I'll have to try them separately.

Dinner: I went to an Irish restaurant for a friend's 40th birthday party. I really had only once choice, but the salad was very good - asparagus, red peppers, mushrooms, lettuce, and tangerine slices.

All seemed fine at first, and then my veganism beeper started going off with no opportunity to shut it down. Arrayed in front of me was a representative from England, a representative from New Zealand, and a representative from Ireland (ruggers all)-- plus a handful of Americans.

It starts off harmless enough, "Really? Vegan? Why?" And like gasoline on a fire, the more cocktails served, the more, shall I say, inquisitive my friends became, "You can't be serious! This is a joke, right?" And soon, after a few more glasses of fire water, the insults where like fighter planes warming up and taking off with me, my veganism, and my pint of ice water squarely in their sights, "Be a man and have a drink! Take off that skirt, and eat some steak!" Wave after wave in rapid fire. My closest friend, the Irishman, eased off the gas and reiterated his support for my dietary efforts. However, the Brit and the Kiwi had their goggles on, and their scarves waving in the air as they took turns in their bi-planes buzzing me with insult machine guns blazing as if King Kong was being attacked on the Empire State Building. Everything from my sexuality to my mental capacity was challenged because of my veganism, and sobriety. All in good humor of course, but this is where I derive my strength. As I batted insults back at them I relished more and more my resolve to change my lifestyle in such a hostile environment. It is empowering to say no to that celebratory shot of whiskey, and ignore the sizzling steak slowly passed under my nose. I loved it. I love the challenge.

The more my friends failed at breaking my diet, the better I felt.