The Un-Vegan, Un-Carnivore, and Utterly Exasperated Confessions of a Reluctant Omnivore
Alright, let's talk about food. Not in the "what's for dinner?" kind of way, but in the "why does eating make me want to scream into the void?" kind of way. Because honestly, the whole damn conversation around what we put in our mouths has become an ethical minefield, and frankly, I’m sick of the hypocrisy. For the record, I eat meat. And fish. And plants. Everything. And before anyone starts clacking away about my moral failings, let me just say: I don’t enjoy the fact that something had to die for my sustenance. I don’t prance around gleefully, relishing in the demise of a sentient being. In fact, if there were a Star Trek replicator in my kitchen right now, assembling every nutrient-perfect molecule into a delicious meal without a single life form blinking out of existence, I’d be the first in line. And probably crying happy tears. But we don’t have replicators. Not yet. So, here’s my cold, hard truth: I have to eat to survive. Period. My body demands ...