You know the day I can’t wait for? When it will be as acceptable to call out meat-eaters for what they’re eating the same way they make faces at what vegans are eating.
Conversation in the lunchroom today as I’m standing by the microwave heating up my lunch:
“What’s for lunch today?” a co-worker asks as they come in to get a coffee.
“Lentil loaf,” I reply.
“Sounds grim,” they retort.
“It’s not.” I say back.
“Is it homemade?” they ask.
“Yup.” But thanks for inadvertently insulting me on two levels.
The imaginary conversation in my head goes something like this:
“Actually, you know what sounds grim? Gastric bypass surgery twenty years from now because I ate greasy, fatty hamburgers my entire life and then went for a smoke afterwards like you do every single day of your working life. You know what else is grim? Having more health problems as I get older because I depended on surgery and pills to make my health better instead of taking control of it myself in the first place and burdening my family and society with caring for me.
Oh, and what’s really fucking grim? Being a 14-month old cow led through a slowly-narrowing chute which ends by having a bolt gun put to your head and fired so that it penetrates your brain enough to stun you but doesn’t actually kill you. Then after that, even though the stunning didn’t work and you are still conscious, you are strung up by one of your hind legs with a chain and as you writhe around in pain and confusion, trying to break free, someone slits your throat, then your abdomen which again, you are still conscious of because everything is moving so fast and the worker slashing your throat and abdominal cavity open is trying to avoid being kicked by a 1,200 pound heifer. But enjoy your dead animal for lunch, you fucking ignorant moron. I promise not to eat my offensive lentil loaf in front of you next time. And I’ll be sure to share this story at your funeral since I’ll probably outlive you.”
Ugh. I HATE the staff lunchroom sometimes.