Are you there God? It’s me, Fat Cat. Like Margaret, I find myself dazed and confused over all of the ruckus I cause when questioning my status out loud… I don’t eat meat followed by an infinite number of answers ways and opinions on what I should be doing according to every arm chair herbivore and all I want is a pocket sized rule book authored by Vegetarians on how to be a good Vegetarian but nooooo it’s not been printed yet and probably never will be because everyone and their monkey’s uncle has to step up and tell me what the fu*k I can can’t and should eat and oh by the way restaurant people CHEESE is NOT a MEAT ALTERNATIVE and if I wanted more FAT on my ASS I would smear fuc*ing LARD on my THIGHS! Whew. Deep breathe. I think I just broke about 50 grammar rules and I am feeling a little bit like a rebel. Suck it MLA, I don’t need you today.
I have been a vegetarian for 51,840 minutes /2,160 hours / 36 days, but who’s counting…oh yeah, I am, because it’s been a long month with some hungry and upset stomach days, tough choices and less than stellar weigh ins. What? Vegetarian does not = super model? Holy shit snacks! I have found it is way too easy to trade meat for oh so yummy all things bread and breaded. If I’m being honest- then I have to say my weight and addiction to being a size 10 again is driving me to succeed in this diet lifestyle change and driving me to declare war on carb overload. I would love to say I am enlightened and want to do better by Mother Earth and reduce my carbon footprint by opting out of cow and pig production. That I am suddenly an uber hip urbanite that eats Vegan style, wears hemp and Birkenstock shoes. That I am striving to be the perfect specimen of health while overcoming numerous health issues and setting a sparkling example of health and eating to my 18-year-old daughter. No, I am doing this because I am a Leo- the worst kind born under a fixed Sun sign. Vain and flashy doesn’t even begin to cover it. Look it up- bad. I have ceased in meat consumption because nothing tastes as delicious as shrieking in joy when trying on a new hot pink bikini with sparkles while your neighbor is crumbling into a ball of tears and snot and smashing the dressing room mirror on the way down to the floor to sulk and contemplate if the Spanx people have come up with an undetectable bikini body shaper yet. Sigh. Honesty- not so delicious. Roooar!