Thirty Days of Eggs, Tears, Jack and Farts: The Diary of a Temporary Vegetarian

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In this week's cover story, Cheap Bastard Alice Laussade tries on vegetarianism for a month. Here, a day-by-day diary of her experience.

Day 1: I tell my husband I'm going vegetarian for a month. He replies, "You do whatever the hell you want -- the boy and I are eating meat for every single meal." I would have said exactly the same thing to him, and he knows it. We are truly in love. I slap him in the man nuts.

Day 2: I love eggs! This is so great! I could eat eggs for every meal for 30 days and be so happy! Eggs, eggs, EGGS!!!!!

Day 3: Seriously, have I mentioned how delicious eggs are? Hard-boiled: check. Over easy: love it. Scrambled: AND YOU KNOW THIS.

Day 4: Oh my God, I hate eggs.

Day 5: I will live at Steel Pops. I'll just live here. Fuck everything else.

Day 6: Beans are not burgers. They will never be burgers. Make it stop. Today, I cried real tears into a black bean Smashburger.

Day 7: Jesus, I love Indian food and Thai food and Vietnamese food so dang much. Thank you, every other culture but mine, for embracing vegetarianism so hard.

Day 8: Go home, seitan. You're drunk.

Day 9: The farts are real. This is some next-level flatulence.

Day 10: Realization: Making dinner at home is so much easier than finding vegetarian options in restaurants. Plus, nobody judges me that my second and third courses are Jack Daniels and Jack Daniels.

Day 11: Ordered a green smoothie at lunch. Lunch friend leaves table and does not return. I then receive a letter in the mail that says that we can't be friends anymore because, "What the fuck, man?"

Day 12: I am forced to say the words, "I'm vegetarian," as I'm ordering. I dislike being forced into high-maintenance ordering because I also dislike server-splooge in my food. Hopefully it will at least be locally sourced.

Day 13: I create a drinking game: If I see mushrooms, pasta, or hummus on the menu for vegetarians, I have to drink. Result: I am drunk.

Day 15: Friend had a birthday party catered by Pecan Lodge. I ate cole slaw. I did not stab anyone. Considered making out with attendees just after they had taken a bite of brisket, decided that was probably at least three kinds of cheating. I smell like barbecue, but wasn't allowed any. This is true pain.

Day 19: Before I chose this time to be vegetarian, we planned a barbecue birthday party for our son. So we smoked tofu and fake sausage, just to see how it would go. It went more poorly than could ever be imagined. It went Anne-Hathaway's-British-accent-poorly.

Day 21: I have a dream about McDonald's chicken nuggets. It's just 30 straight minutes of sexy food porn footage. Close-ups. "Aww yeah"s. I wake up scarred.

Day 22: My period will start in two days. I have been vegetarian for 22 days. This is the most volatile I have been in my entire 33 years of life. And someone just decided it would be funny to taunt me with bacon. ALICE SMASH.

Day 30: I have survived on a vegetarian diet for 30 days. I better understand the plight of the Dallas-no-meater. At midnight, I will reward myself with an entire rack of ribs.

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