Chicken Soup without the Chicken

Melissa Itzkowitz, Prozdor Grade 10

The day I declared I was a vegetarian was like the day the music died…for my mother. Before leaving for college, my sister had been a vegetarian for four years. For four years, my mother struggled with the idea that not only did she need to prepare one meal a night, she often had to prepare two—one for my sister, and one for the rest of my family. This was a great burden and an even greater annoyance to her. Not only that, but my mother is an exceptional chef, restaurant worthy. She specializes in her “famous” chicken dishes she serves every Friday night. When my sister left last year for Smith College, she was finally able to prepare one meal that the entire family would eat and enjoy. The next week, I announced that I too, was a vegetarian.

I became a vegetarian on a Sunday. For that entire week, my mother served meat. For that entire week, I ate salad. Against common belief, I did not become a vegetarian out of spite for my mother or to be difficult. I did not become a vegetarian because my sister is one, although it probably had some influence on my decision and my ability to stand by my decision. In fact, my sister is a “special” kind of vegetarian. She will not eat anything served to her with eyes, and since none of the seafood served to her still has eyes, she will eat it. She is not a very loyal vegetarian. I am the extreme opposite. I will not eat anything that has touched meat or is on the same plate as meat. I am just that crazy.

I have been a vegetarian for about a year and a half. Some frequently asked questions are, “Why?” or “Why are you a vegetarian but not a vegan?” I am not a vegan for two reasons—one: I do not have enough self-control to be one, and two: I have no desire to be one. I suppose I am a vegetarian because I need to be. After almost fourteen years of eating meat several times a week, I began to find it repulsive. To be perfectly honest, I believe it had something to do with a story I read last year about a man who hunted and killed his prey. His victims were humans. This parallel of humans being hunted to animals being hunted supplied me with a new perspective about my diet because I could relate to the cruelty animals face everyday. I could not eat an animal ever again.

That one otherwise ordinary day when I told my mother I did not feel like having meat that night changed my life forever. I did not know if it would be difficult, which it has turned out not to be, and I did not know if I would be able to continue with it. However, I am proud to say that I still have not eaten any chicken soup.