One week ago, I was a run-of-the-mill pescatarian, thinking about starting a TikTok page dedicated to a pescatarian and meatless diet. Today, I’m rethinking my relationship with food.
Six years ago, my lifelong friend Anna Graebner started her plant-based journey and quickly urged me to join her. Like anyone else, I said I enjoy salami sandwiches and steak too much to give up meat.
Eventually, she wore me down, and I reconsidered my choices. Although Anna and I haven’t given up meat entirely, we only occasionally include fish in our diets. This diet is known as pescatarianism.
The fundamental reason I stopped eating meat was ultimately because of the unknown. I do not know if the mediocre burger I ate had a best friend on the farm who misses them. Or if they even touched the grass. I do not know if the rotisserie chicken I shoveled down lived its life in a cage or had a clean environment. I had my own chickens growing up. The unknown of where the meat came from and how it lived is a wonder to me.
There is a likely possibility that I’m over-empathic for animals, which humans have always eaten to survive. To each their own. I’m a firm believer that compassion is a gift that not everyone has.
If there is a potluck, pescatarians should be prepared to bring their own food.
Everyone should face adversity like this. It teaches you confidence and, most importantly, tolerance. Being the “odd one out” builds character, although having someone to share your odd ways with is key.
Imagine my surprise when I went to watch a video Anna sent me, thinking it was a fun, heartwarming video. It was really a confession. Anna revealed that when she was at the grocery store, she bought a rotisserie chicken.
I was astonished that my best friend, who had influenced me to go plant-based, abandoned ship. This sparked the beginning of a new era, one of many identity crises in college. Anna was my pescatarian rock, we had shared recipes and pictures of beautiful meals. What was I going to do without this support?
The Ferris men’s basketball team played in the Elite Eight on March 26, and Buffalo Wild Wings had the game playing on multiple TVs. This event made it so there was no shortage of people in the restaurant that night. I had woken up that Tuesday, wanting to step out of my comfort zone and put my heart and stomach on the line to see if I could really do it.
When the server brought our food, there were six platters of chicken wings and my southwestern black bean burger. All but one plate of the wings had the bone in, which felt the most safe to me. I would have ordered bone-in wings in the past, so I thought, “Why not?” My friend forked me over a parmesan garlic wing, and I grabbed it with my bare hands.
The demeanor of the table quickly switched from eyes on the TVs to all eyes and phones with flash on me. My group’s excitement and my nervousness clashed. My face resembled a strawberry in these moments as I coerced myself into taking a bite.
I took a leap of faith, and with all my courage, I took a nibble from the wing. Soon after, tears filled my eyes uncontrollably, although I did not let one drop.
Proudly chewing the most ghastly, off-putting, indescribable texture and swallowing, I felt a sense of relief. I had played around with the idea of trying to eat meat but could never mentally or physically go through with it. Relationships with food are difficult because everyone fights their own very different battles.
When you go so long prohibiting yourself from eating something, it will change your taste buds. That chicken wing tasted like my fake chicken nuggets with much more flavor. So, if I can get that same flavor without the death of a living creature, I can go without.
Five years from now, I could hold the record for most hot dogs eaten at a contest, or I could be advancing my skills in the kitchen and writing a plant-based cookbook. I do not know. I know it’s important to have original ideas. It’s important to do what matters to you, even if it doesn’t make sense to others.
C.E. – EC / C.F.