You’ve heard of the War of the Roses? The 100 Years War? WWI and WWII, of course. Well, welcome to my house and the War of the Fake Meat-Eaters vs. well, vs. Me.
It’s not a global battle, of course, but it is epic.
Blame Handsome Hubby. (Who else would you blame?) He started it.
We were on vacation. Relaxing. Having a good time.
Then he watched The Game Changers, a documentary produced and featuring his action hero idol Arnold Schwarzenegger. The movie is about the sky-rocketing popularity of plant-based eating in professional sports. I cannot say much more about it. I fell asleep, but when I awoke, not only had the game changed but the world – my world. And not for the better,
The War of the Fake Meat-Eaters Begins
HH, once a happy carnivore, had become a plant-eater. For health and environmental reasons, brisket and burger would no more touch his lips. Cow’s milk and ice cream would no longer slide – glistening and shimmering – down his pure and pristine gullet.
With the zeal of a religious convert, HH renounced poultry, red meat, pink meat, fish, and dairy. Bye-bye eggs. Bye-bye cheese. And bye-bye butter.
Now, I can live without fish (except shrimp and lobster) and I can live without bacon (except as part of a BLT), BUT saying good-bye to butter, eggs, and cheese was a bit – and a bite – more than I could abide.
So, after 33 years of marriage, HH and I are going our separate ways. He eats Beyond Burgers, while I bite into your basic red-meat burgers with reckless abandon … and relish too! And sometimes when he starts pontificating about the benefits of his new-found plant-based dietary religion, I also bite my tongue!
Whither Goest the Marriage?
I worry that this culinary split bodes ill for our marriage. What if HH expands his ethical/environmental demands?
I’m an older woman. I’m not sure I have it in me to adapt to so much change. I’ve already bought sheets with a thread count higher than the Gross National Product to accommodate his sensitive derma and derriere. I’ve already lived through his short-lived, but intense gluten-free phase. (Curse you, Wheat Belly – a book HH gave everybody in the family for Christmas and Hanukkah one year.)
HH replaced all the light bulbs with more efficient ones. That was good. But when he re-wired the house to make it “smart,” that was bad. That move caused me to be outsmarted, locked out, and in the dark for months.
What’s next? Will I have to replace all our bedding with environmentally sourced sheets? Will there be a domestic mandate to shed our chic clothing and wear instead some sort of sustainably sewn sackcloth?
Meanwhile, there’s one upside in this War of the Fake Meat-Eaters: None of the cookbooks I’ve lovingly acquired over decades of marriage meet the requirements of my family’s new eating regime. So, I’m boycotting the kitchen (except the table). The result: HH has taken over 9/10s of the shopping and cooking. I breeze in, eat what I like (almost everything is edible with ketchup), and then, I handle the clean-up.
The downside? I’m eating more meat than ever!
I schedule lunches out with girlfriends with alarming frequency and even go out for breakfast by myself, eating more bacon than ever before.
HH is losing weight and scoring points in the Afterlife for improving the planet. Me? I’m going to Hell in an unflattering gray sweatsuit with grease dribbling down my chin!
Yes, it’s the War of the Fake Meat-Eaters vs. Me. And it’s clear who is winning. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jackie Chan, followed closely by HH.