Animal babies, veganism and narrow-minded (wannabe) philosophers

by Rebecca

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Spring is here and the animals are out with their babies. I decide to go vegan (and not because he has as well it but because I am capable of thinking and able to make my own autonomous decisions) (Also, veganism makes sense. Duh.). When I walk into the kitchen I get the question: “Rebecca, don’t you ever feel like eating pork?”
Answer: No, if I felt like eating pork, I would eat pork. I am not trying to make myself into some kind of non-meat-eater martyr.

“Did you know that pregnant women are advised to eat meat?”
“No, but I’m not sure that is necessary. My mum didn’t eat meat when she was pregnant with me or my sister and we turned out all right.”
“Oh, but you are a little bit crazy.”
“Well, I’m starting to wonder how sane you are considering that you eat meat.” (badum tsss)
“You know, if you and Joe ever get a baby it’s going to be a psycho baby.”

I don’t mind people asking why, I don’t mind people wondering why I have chosen to not eat any animal products. What I do mind is that this particular person’s questions are asked with the underlying premise of him considering himself to be right and me to be wrong. It is in other words not a question asked out of curiosity but a question asked with the intention to prove me wrong. I think he should be more open-minded since he is doing a philosophy degree. Philosophy is not about proving other people wrong. It is about looking at other possible ways to do things, to question what is often taken for granted and to evaluate what might be the most plausible conclusion. I don’t think he has got the hang of that yet. When I complain about his questions others tell me “Oh, Rebecca. You have to remember he’s a moron” (and I have to admit I am trying very hard to not use any ad hominem against him) (twat). I also think that he is not in any position of making complaints about me not getting enough nutrients – his diet consists of breaded processed chicken, oven-baked chips, Cadbury’s Turkish Delight and about 3 Litres of milk each week.

Next time I walk into the kitchen he says “Mmm, meat” and I just smile at him and think to myself “Fine, you eat your meat and drink your milk and I’ll just live longer”. (badum tsss)