Alan had taken to telling our friends a story about how I have farted myself awake.
Yes, the flatulence had continued. Robust and tangy, my flatulence knew no end. I suppose since he had to cope with the Dutch oven after effects of my vegan diet, he was entitled to reap some momentary joy in the re-telling.
“It’s like when Brian farts himself awake in Family Guy,” Alan can barely speak through his laughter. “He just startles himself, then looks around!” Alan wipes his eyes and sighs, “I love it when he actually acts like a dog.”
I gritted my teeth and smiled. Hilarious.
But he had a point. My belly felt so bloated that I could pooch it out and look five months pregnant. Doing this in front of Alan was enough to enact my revenge. However, I was getting tired. When I slept, I slept hard. I’m not sure if this was because of the diet or because I’d also started to take a pass on full-caf coffee.
Which reminds me: Success Story!
I had a decaf soy latte and it was delicious. It really was better than the dairy version, and I do not write that lightly. I was stunned by the deliciousness. And Agro café also had the decency to offer a vegan banana bread! I was, as they say, in non-hog heaven.
My restaurant challenges continued. But I think that if your standards aren’t too high, you can really make do everywhere. Tonight I had a baked potato with olive oil and Dijon and a side of grilled asparagus. And a very large white wine. I came home to some sesame crackers and hummus and called it a night.
When I told people what I was doing, I invariably got the same comment, “Better watch your protein!” Apparently they hadn’t read the same material that I had. I nobly resisted the urge to say, “Where do you think cows get their protein, huh?”
I remember the warnings from the Vegan book: don’t be a vegan asshole.
But perhaps lightening up on the roughage a bit would be a good idea.
For everyone’s sake.