Five years a vegetarian — and now I’m back eating meat
After over-indulging for a week, many people are considering cutting meat from their diet,
AS you read this, chances are you are floundering in the tail-end of over-indulgence. The last of the turkey has been eaten, straight from the fridge late at night, ferried from shelf to mouth in torpid, sloth-like movements. There will have been more fried breakfasts than usual, plus gravy, baked ham and those irresistible duck fat potatoes.
It’s no coincidence, then, that at this time of year a lot of people consider cutting meat from their diet. It is also no coincidence that tomorrow is the beginning of Veganuary, the initiative that encourages people to try going vegan for the month of January and, all going well, then the rest of the year.
Along with Veganuary, there will be countless articles and blog posts extolling the virtues of a plant-based diet, along with plenty of smug Instagram posts from people who have “never felt better”. As a reformed vegetarian who abstained from eating meat for five years, a word of warning to anybody considering cutting out meat from their diet: proceed with caution.
About 18 months ago I began eating meat after half a decade of abstinence. The reason was not because I began craving meat. I loved, and still do, vegetarian food — but something was beginning to happen to my body that I could no longer ignore.
My energy levels had dipped so low I could barely sit upright at a dinner table. I experienced dizzy spells that felt as if I was spinning slowly on the spot, the world around me momentarily muted and blurred. I had very low blood pressure and brittle nails. In short, I felt awful. Full disclosure before I go any further: I was a bad vegetarian. By that, I don’t mean I was the type of vegetarian to secretly wolf down a chicken kebab after a big night out. I mean that I did not take supplements to try and regain the nutrients missing from a diet that does not include meat or fish.
Other than taking the occasional iron tablet I ate Vegemite, a yeast spread similar to Marmite, regularly in an attempt to retain B vitamins which are notoriously difficult to get without eating meat. On paper I followed a very healthy diet made up mostly of vegetables, fruit, pulses, carbohydrates and some dairy, like cheese, although I never managed to get a taste for tofu.
One of the biggest dietary misconceptions is that a meatfree diet is automatically a healthy diet. Forgoing meat is intrinsically linked to weight loss, but that’s another damaging misconception. Meatfree does not fuel weight loss, and skinny does not always represent healthy. Add to that the unrelenting pressure that stems from food bloggers, “health gurus”, clean eaters and fitness influencers, and our understanding of what constitutes a healthy diet becomes even more skewered. Rather than seeking advice from highly qualified dieticians, more often than not we are taking our dietary cues from either nutritionists (accredited or not) or this new breed of foodies.
Meat-free diets no longer just imply weight loss, they are packaged as aspirational lifestyle choices, sold to us by young, thin, beautiful people whose literal business is to make a meat-free diet seem as attractive as possible.
Eating meat again was not a decision I came to easily. I could have taken supplements with gusto but I felt so depleted that eating meat, at least for a short period, seemed to be the fastest route to regaining strength and energy. I had ignored my body for so long and decided to listen to what it needed. Another disclosure: I was not an ethical vegetarian. I never took a moral stance on going meat-free — after all, I still consumed dairy and wore leather. So my reluctance to eat meat again was not bound up in guilt around animal welfare. When I thought about it, I realised that somewhere along the line being a vegetarian had become a part of my identity.
Despite reading as though it was copy-and-pasted from the About Me section of a food blog, I truly believe that all of us use food to construct an understanding of ourselves and our place in the world. It is why burly blokes gloat about downing burgers and steak (it goes back to that hunter-gatherer mentality) and why nations are obsessed with their culinary identity. It is why we develop cultish followings for food trends and form bonds with people who share a like-minded approach to eating. Produce is linked to certain geographical points, through which we find our physical place in the world. It’s why we crave the food of our birthplace when we are far from home. Literally swallowing my apprehension, I took a bite from a homemade steak and Guinness pie (for the iron, you see) and have not looked back. I have developed a love affair with seafood and when I eat meat, I take real joy in it.
But crucially, meat is not something I take for granted and it is certainly not my default choice when eating convenience food. It is so easy to eat meat for every meal of the day, particularly if you are pressed for time. By virtue of eating meat so often, chances are the quality is greatly reduced — I’m looking at you, chicken fillet roll.
If vegans think too much about their food, perhaps carnivores don’t think enough. The best compromise is to eat better quality meat, less often. But, of course, that decision is entirely up to you. You might be currently suffering the ‘meat sweats’ but don’t be swayed by the pressure applied by post-Christmas detoxing. Put down the drumstick, and listen to your body. You’ll find it will offer the wisest counsel.
‘Being skinny does not always represent healthy’