With a splash I entered. With a whisper I exited.
On Thursday night, I ate chicken for the first time in 16 years.
My decision to become a vegetarian came in my early teens. It was my version of a teenaged rebellion - a sort of moment of taking control in the midst of a time of many changes in our family life.
I did not gently ease into vegetarianism - I did it with a bit of a splash. Translation - what better day to make my announcement - than Thanksgiving Day, a day in which there is an unmistakeable focus on foods of a less than vegetarian sort.
But this time was different. This decision was a means to an end; eating chicken would prepare me for consuming more protein with the US Army as I prepare to embed with them in Afghanistan as a journalist. I also want to be ready to accept local hospitality in the form of meals and meats that I'm less than familiar with - hoping to make inroads with people, and give them less reason not to talk to me.
Oddly enough, after all this built-up anxiety about 'going-back' like I was afraid of being misconstrued as a sort of back-slidden religious zealot coming to terms with her own humanity, it was really quite simple to eat a bite of a chicken.....then another.....then another.
I can't say I enjoyed the newly-discovered texture, but I did chew it up and swallow it, and there was enough spice at the time to make it worthwhile....what can I say? I guess I'm finding out that where there's a will, there's a way. And on this trip - it's going to be one heckuvawild ride - so I might as well dive in....GI tract and all.
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