Last May I returned home after a year of living wildly in the mountains, a.k.a college in rural Pennsylvania, to find that my 16-year-old flower child sister was a hardcore, full fledge, tree hugging vegetarian. For my first dinner back, I laughed as I chowed down on a juicy steak and she happily consumed a veggie burger. I didn't understand why she was a vegetarian, I often made jokes about her decision and didn't listen when she talked about vegetarian related topics.
After three weeks at home with my wild haired, free spirited vegetarian sister (Angel is her name by the way, but don't let it fool you, seriously don't), the wheels in my brain began turning. The facts she recited like a BINGO proctor were finally starting sinking in. When my mom made cheeseburgers for dinner I could hear the meat moo-ing "Please don't eat me Krystin." When she whipped up a family favorite- Chicken Parmesan- I could literally see feathers in my meal. It was really starting to freak a girl out.
But my official "turning point" was mid-June when in a frantic hurry to find a shirt to wear I stumbled into my sister's bedroom (which, let me tell you, is twice the size of mine and she has a walk-in closet-my parents don't play favorites at all), and instead of finding a shirt I found a PETA pamphlet -play haunted house soundtrack here- I know, the HORROR! My stomach was telling me not to open it but the baby pigs on the cover were just too cute to resist. Well, let's just say I was immediately turned. I'll spare you the gruesome details that'll make ya loose your lunch but I read every horrifying word of that pamphlet and gaped at every picture. I stood there in my sister's room, half-clothed, mouth wide open, late for my date, questioning every meal I ever ate.
As I neared the end of the pamphlet and my feelings of self-loathing reached a record high, I noticed a picture of a baby pig and read the caption underneath. To put it nicely, the caption said something like "This little piggy did not go to the market, he did not go home, he got sick, threw up and died in it and then he was served to you and your family on Easter." Yum.
And that's when the water works came. I don't think I cried that much since I realized that no member of N'Sync, the Backstreet Boys or even 98 degrees (you remember them, don't lie) was going to ask for my hand in marriage, ever. Yeah i know, it was that crush-your-dreams, life-as-you-know-it-is-now-over bad.
After about 15 minutes of crying over Mr.Piggy and his farm friends, I prayed to God and all baby animals everywhere that I would never eat meat or anything made with meat by-products ever again.