So I'm closer than ever to my ultimate dietary goal, which is the meat-free life. For anyone who has never heard my explanation... I get Meat Guilt. I look at meat and I feel bad that it used to be part of something alive, but now it's dead just because I happen to like a heartier sandwich or a more flavorful stirfry. I am also disgusted by the concept of preparing and consuming slabs of flesh. But I don't tell other people they shouldn't or can't eat meat. I don't have a problem with dairy. It's just that for me personally, I feel better eating a meat-free meal. A guilt free meal. (Yes, I feel sorry for the fish too. Moreso, even, because they probably died a more horrible death than the cows and chickens.)
But meat is a hard habit to break, honestly. And if it doesn't actually resemble the animal it once was, it's a little easier to forget it was a living, breathing mooer or clucker. I have an addiction... to Arby's roast beef sandwiches. I am most ashamed of this, more ashamed than my addiction to chicken tenders and fishwiches, because I'm always saying that I hate beef above all else, plus it's bad for you. But they're just so freaking good, all smothered with cheese and horsey sauce and that delectible Arby's Sauce... I just can't help myself.
I'm trying to be content with the steps I have taken, and just ride with my comfort level when it comes to meat-eating. I've made good progress in the last few years, and someday I am confident I will be meat free, and therefore, guilt free. I don't lay awake at night crying over my General Tso's chicken or anything, but I do feel guilty about those tasty, tasty roast beef sandwiches. Well, not late at night. As I'm eating them. Or right now, when I'm thinking about how good they are. Mmm, smothery goodness... dammit!
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