deep-dish pizza off the deep end

American society loves to watch and contribute to the fall of the most conservative and wholesome. Our disturbing interest in Linsay Lohan--once child star playing both Parent Trap twins, now in and out of rehab/jail--lies in our subconscious desire to tear down those who appear pure, innocent, or otherwise untainted by our society. Therein lies a niche fascination with the Amish. Such an abstinent and self-sacrificing people must have a great desire to succumb to the sins of modern society, right? That is what we hope to find, but in fact, after a foray in the outside world, they often choose to return to the ascetic, rural life their parents chose for them. A fantastic episode of This American Life tells this story, among others.

I'm thinking that if everyone hears the devil on their shoulder, we all hope that others will succumb to him/her before we do, thus retaining some sense of self-integrity. So if Lindsay Lohan and I were both innocent adolescents around the same time, but now she is addicted to god-knows-what and violating her parole, and I am only a slightly-ruined woman with no jail time or drug addictions to speak of, then I win in this social competition. And winning is important. If we can imagine that even the Amish hear the devil on their shoulder, it helps us feel like they aren’t winning. This social phenomenon is perhaps what has sparked what I will call a fad, for lack of a better word, of Amish Romance novels. I came across an entire rack of them, by at least a half-dozen different authors, at WinCo once.

Obviously the parallel between vegetarians and the Amish is limited, but in a way, people who do not restrict their diet who like to entice vegetarians to eat meat, are sort of like those who secretly want the Amish to try gambling or something. If you can entice a more conservative person to do what you do, it makes what you do way more socially acceptable.

My family has been trying to entice me to eat meat for most of my vegetarian years. So, the fact that last night I ate and enjoyed a slice or two of deep-dish pizza with a large slab of house-made Italian sausage at Masa, will come as a big surprise and shock to most people who know me, especially my sisters. Likely, they will be pleased to find that I have succumbed to the earthly pleasure of flesh, and will quit eating things like meatless Buffalo wings, at least for the time being. In my family, this will make me a bit like Lindsay Lohan: the vegetarian sister who finally goes off the meat-eating deep end.

rumspringa-wha?

Most people I know and love know me and love me (or perhaps distain me) as a vegetarian. For the past eight-odd years, the foods I choose and choose not to sustain myself with have become an overwhelming part of my identity. So much so that I try to phrase it in less pigeon-holing terms:

“No, thanks, I don’t eat chicken.”
-“Are you some kind of vegan/animal rights activist/crazy person?
No. I just am not currently eating meat.
-Oh. Not even fish/ham/turducken?
No. I am not eating animals.
-Not even eggs?
Life begins at birth, asshole.

When people ask why I don’t usually have a good answer. Usually it’s some sort of formulation about health, both mine and the world’s, but I don’t always succeed in not coming off as dogmatic or, conversely, apathetically or arbitrarily vegetarian.

Living in the tofu-eating bubble of Eugene, Oregon for the last four years has not made me question my eating habits much. There, the typical host will ask if anyone eats meat, rather than if anyone is a vegetarian, and veggie burgers are usually the default barbecue fare.

But, as so many red-blooded Americans will tell you, human beings were meant to eat flesh. I will not try to argue with that, so now, finally, I am going to test it out myself. After years of claiming that I feel healthier when I don’t eat meat, I’m going to actually try it on for size.

And that’s where my Amish imagery comes in. The legend goes that the Amish, perhaps America’s most celebrated conservatives, are given a trial period of the sinful non-Amish life at the end of their adolescence. At the end of the Rumspringa, the youth must decide whether they wish to return to Amishdom or become a regular American. The fascinating part of the Rumspringa, and one that is capitalized upon in the media, is that Amish youth rarely chose the life of sin they enjoyed for a year, and usually return, prodigal-son-like, to their families. It certainly doesn’t help that their families will shun them if they don’t return, but theoretically, the choice is all theirs.

As a woman who appreciates her right to choose, I have resolved to make an educated reevaluation of my diet. In Rumspringa fashion, I will quit vegetarianism—yes, cold turkey—and begin to eat all kinds of meat. After the fling with meat subsides, I will coolly and rationally decide whether I wish to return to the realm of the herbivores or not.

Most likely, I will. But only time will tell. Stay tuned.