War of the Fake Meat-Eaters

War of the Fake Meat-Eaters

You’ve heard of the War of the Roses? The 100 Years War? WWI and WWII, of course. Well, welcome to my house and the War of the Fake Meat-Eaters vs me.

It’s not a global battle, of course, but it is epic.

Blame Handsome Hubby. (Who else would you blame?) He started it.

We were on vacation. Relaxing. Having a good time.

Then he watched The Game Changers, a documentary produced and featuring his action hero idol, Arnold Schwarzenegger. The movie is about the “alleged” benefits and growing popularity of plant-based eating in professional sports. I cannot say much more about it. I fell asleep, but when I awoke, not only had the game changed but also, the world. More specifically, my world. And not for the better,


HH, once a happy carnivore, had become a plant-eater. For health and environmental reasons, brisket and burger would no more touch his lips. Cow’s milk and ice cream would no longer slide – glistening and shimmering – down his pure and pristine gullet.

With the zeal of a religious convert, HH renounced poultry, red meat, pink meat, fish, and dairy. Bye-bye eggs. Bye-bye cheese. And bye-bye butter.

Now, I can live without fish (except shrimp and lobster) and I can live without bacon (except as part of a BLT), BUT saying good-bye to dairy was a bit – and a bite – more than I could abide.

So, sadly, after 33 years of marriage, HH and I are going our separate dietary ways.


I worry that this culinary split bodes ill for our marriage. What if HH expands his ethical/environmental lifestyle and wants me to join in on this path to enlightenment?

I’m an older woman. I’m set in my ways. I’ve already bought sheets with a thread count higher than the Gross National Product to accommodate his sensitive derma and derriere. I barely survived his short-lived, but intense gluten-free phase. (Curse you, Wheat Belly, a book and eating regime HH touted to everybody in shouting distance a few years back.

Then he replaced all the light bulbs with more efficient ones. That was good. But when Mr. Energy Efficiency re-wired the house to make it “smart,” that was bad. That move caused me to be outsmarted, locked out, and in the dark for months.

What’s next? Will I have to replace the rest of our bedding with environmentally sourced material? Will there be a marital mandate to shed our chic clothing and wear sustainably sewn sackcloth?

Meanwhile, there’s one upside in this War of the Fake Meat-Eaters: None of the cookbooks I’ve lovingly acquired over decades of marriage meet the requirements of this new vegan/plant-eating regime. So, I’m boycotting cooking duty. The result: HH has taken over 9/10s of the shopping and meal prep. I simply breeze in and eat (almost everything is edible with ketchup). I now just handle the clean-up.


HH is losing weight and scoring points in the Afterlife for improving the planet. Me? I’m going to Hell in an unflattering gray sweatsuit with grease dribbling down my chin!

Yes, it’s the War of the Fake Meat-Eaters vs. Me. And it’s clear who is winning; Arnold Schwarzenegger and his faithful fan, HH. No contest.

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2 thoughts on “War of the Fake Meat-Eaters”

  1. I can identify with your ordeal, though my entire family has managed to go veggie (in the dietary sense, not our mental state). After believing you can’t get a horse to eat vegan food, I was happily proved wrong. Perhaps you will be, too. Enjoy your grease while you can!

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