I'm going to give away my age again, but in the height of my mid-teens, the American crime thriller, Juice, hit theaters. It's title track, "Juice (Know The Ledge)", was virtually on repeat for weeks, if not months, on stereos everywhere and my bedroom boombox was no exception.
The "juice" referred to respect, or street cred, for which we all tend to be judged: How tough are we? Survival of the fittest. How Darwinian.
On that same soundtrack there was another title, "So Ya Wanna Be A Gangsta", by Too $hort, an ambivalent question of being sought out on both sides of the law for opposing reasons.
Recollection of that song brought out the Weird Al composer in me, as I tried coming up with my own 90s style slow-jam deep voice rap:
"So ya wanna be a vegan
And all that jazz
Just plants, no meat
No thanks, I'll pass"
I crack me up with my own sarcastic wit, I assure you.
Yes, I am comparing being veg*n to being a gangster. Ridiculous notion? At first, perhaps, but consider for the fact that it goes against mainstream, social following and it flaunts a blatant opposition to the governing bodies.
Milk doesn't do a body good, no matter what The Man tells you.
Now, that said, I'm not recommending you buy a handkerchief to wear on your head and tie the knot on your forehead, and brandish firearms to complete the look, although I will admit that sometimes a handkerchief definitely does help me keep the sweat outta my eyes at the gym.
What I can tell you is that it's incredible what lengths you will have to go to in order to justify why you abstain from meat, if you volunteer that you're "going vegetarian" at social events.
You *will* spend more time bantering with friends and family about the merits of being a PBP and where you "get your protein from".
The first guess is always,"So you live on Salad?"
Then at some point, the smart ass of the group will point out that "plants are living creatures too."
Next thing you know you'll need to get tear drop tattoos, you plantkiller, you.
Sadly, the factor I think most people miss more than anything is that in factory farming, like any business, the idea is to turn a profit. To turn a faster profit, one must run more inventory through the doors. In the case of factory farming, the inventory is animals. To move more through the door, you need to breed them and grow them and then process them faster and faster.
Enter growth hormones and anti-inflammatory medications.
Enter growth hormones and anti-inflammatory medications.
Then of course, if you're like me and you juice, you'll need to justify why you take perfectly good fruits and vegetables, process them and discard the fibrous parts, and drink an unholy concoction of greenness that looks radioactive.
"But Fat Guy..... those juicing diets are all fads!"
It's funny how those closest to you will be the ones that oppose your decisions the most.
This morning marked the start of my return to juicing. God, I missed it. I have taken nearly a year long hiatus for two reasons: the cost and the availability of organic produce.
You see, in the last two years since I took The Change, I've found standard produce just isn't enjoyable anymore, but mainstream grocery stores regard margins as more valuable than quality, and smaller scale operations can't always deliver healthy product in enough supply continuously through the year. I mean after all, Mother Nature IS cyclical.
And then it happened. I found Whole Foods Market. I found my Mecca. I found my Shangri-la. I found my zen place.
I had been told it was overpriced. I had been told it was just another store. I was told wrong.
As a Northerner, living in Toronto, Ontario, I am somewhat limited in my options a few months of the year. In fact, until this month I had only ever seen one type of kale in our stores. Imagine my pleasure to find several varieties - and organic to boot.
I found a re-energized reason for excitement to bring to the conversation, "So ya wanna be a vegan?"
I found a place with the street cred to back my own. I found a safe haven, a place that will provide for my habit. I found the motherload. To juice.
And so I did. I juiced this morning for the first time in a year. And it was good juice. Once again I could leave the house with my green goodness, a mineral and vitamin rich food source that was quickly and easily absorbed into my empty belly. Is it partially my imagination that hours later I thought I could feel a difference from my usual toast-and-peanut-butter start? Perhaps, but I'm not convinced. My gut instinct tells me there is a difference.
One more step in the right direction.
Spring is around the corner, with just a few more weeks before I can get back to enjoyable jogging out doors. I have found a fresh new source of enjoyable produce. I've discovered another reason to be excited about staying positive about being a PBP. All of which means that in a few more weeks, I'll be back down to the weight I was at, and even closer to the weight that I want to be.
Some day I won't be a fat guy. But I'll always be your Fat Guy who went vegan. The loss of weight might make the name sound a little funny when they ask, "Your name is Fat Guy? But you're not fat....?"
Exactly. But it's taken time. And persistence. I can assure you this is not easy. My love for food, above almost everything else in existence, has created demon cravings that my willpower can sometimes not even resist. Hence, being vegan has become much like being a hygenic person - every day I have to shower. Taking one bath doesn't make me "clean" for life. One day at a time.
But one day I'll prove being a plant-based person (PBP) works. I'll have street cred.
Sipping my juice, hanging on by my fingertips,
FG
