Miss Ashley Pants

The other day as I was about to attack a deliciously seductive salad the size of small house, somebody asked me that question that’s almost become cliché to ask anyone who doesn’t eat meat: “So… where do you get your protein?”

It feels derisive when some people ask it – almost like an attack.

And I think that’s because – especially when our more worldly friends ask it with a sardonic smile on their mugs – it’s hard to believe that they don’t have at least a few other vegan friends who they’ve asked the same thing (only to not listen to the answer when they get it). Also, we’re pretty sure you’re not asking because you’re considering joining in on the fun. It’d be just as easy for me to ask those of you who are Catholics about your conflicting ideologies of Adam and Eve traipsing into Eden, shouting “FIRST!” like living anachronistic Youtube comments… happening alongside evolution which you also believe in. I don’t do that, but I’d have more reason to – because unlike creationism and evolution, meeting protein needs and meatless eating aren’t mutually exclusive things. That said – I’ll make a concession: just because someone else is wrong to be rude, doesn’t make me right about everything else I’m doing.

I’m not.

I don’t know enough about my own diet.

I’ve only recently opted for this change and I’m not perfect. It took a couple of years to make the transition, there are purists who would puke and call me Buffalo Bill if they saw my closet with all the old coats and jackets made from the dead pals of Mr. Ed., and occasionally I’ll get a dairy something-or-other from Starbucks.

So, it’s more like a “mostly diet” – not a religion. After silencing my oh-so-eloquent inner bitch, I explained to the asker that there is a great deal of protein in the foods that I eat because I don’t calorie restrict, the exotic fruits I enjoy and their seeds are high in it, and so are some of the supplements that I use.

But then why did I still feel defensive at my core?

Even before I decided to stop eating animal products, I didn’t know shit about the shit I was putting my body. And I sure as hell wasn’t getting much protein from my canned Campbell’s soups (which often were the only meal I had all day). But since I’m making dietary changes with the aim of self betterment – why not better that part of myself too? My mom had said, “When someone asks you, that’s your chance to educate them.” This confirmed my concern about not knowing enough about the nature of my intake for my own sake (much less to educate others) – not on this diet nor any of the past.

So I prepped with my research specs to sail the Google seas.

And then I got bored and distracted and stopped soon after.

But before I did, I read that experts suggest women get around 45 grams of protein a day. And of the listed items for my ilk, I do eat a lot of the stuff – but since I don’t monitor how much, it’s tough to tell if I’m getting enough to reach that 45 figure. From dried apricots, prunes, dates, and almonds to sundtried tomatoes and lentils, there are numerous ways to meet requirements that don’t make me ew all over myself. Right now, my hemp seeds, avocado, and durian are probably the major players in my protein game. I eat a lot of fruit by day and then spinach, kale, avocado, tomatoes, and mushrooms by night. And while my digestive organs just got mildly aroused even typing those foods out, hopefully they can grow an equal affinity for the nuts and lentils and other stuff too. I think I just like the stuff with higher water content because they’re harder to overdo – the old tummy sac gets satisfied and filled sooner.

So, I’m probably getting enough because of the amount I eat.

But I could be doing better.

If nothing else the conversation opened my mind up to “How can I do better?” (Why not make compassionate dieting a competish?) While I’m doing alright right now with the avocados and hempseeds and durian, I’m human and I might get bored with those eventually. Plus, my exotic fruit’s seasonal. What’ll I do after summer? Now I know I can add a couple cups of almonds and perhaps some sun-dried tomatoes and apricots, while I try out some of those other strange sounding things to see what passes the Ash-taste test.

In the end, I realized that twinge of discomfort had a purpose.

It spurred a little research – which ended up benefiting me a lot and the person who seemed to be acting sarcastically got nada. And I encourage everyone to assume the same outlook during any perceived attack. I’m bad at that usually, but this time I didn’t get angry because, well, I’m pretty secure with my ingestion decisions. Unlike my other numerous questionable habits, I don’t need it validated just like I don’t feel the need to pick a bone with those picking at chicken bones on their plates or bring out Earthlings to show them. We all follow our own paths and our plates are just part of that.

Like something you see on mine?

Awesome. I’ll tell you more as I learn more, if you ask. Nicely.

Why? ’cause this diet’s been the first time I can eat as much as I want and lose weight and feel happy and light and not like binging (because I know I’m just gonna eat more in a couple hours anyway). Exercise doesn’t feel like a penance, I don’t get the itis after meals, and I feel like my urge to be an asshole gets overridden a little better. (Sometimes. Depending on who’s around. And what they’re asking.)

Also, you start to get in tune with what your body actually needs without having to count every calorie or gram of whatever’s going into it like some old timey accountant in a visor. They call that the somatic ear, I think (everyone, not just vegans). When you’re missing something vital, you start to get a craving for it as your cart passes by that aisle.

Either way, I’ll add some of those other vittles. Till then, though, the telltale signs on this road aren’t saying “wrong way” to me whatsoev. My nails are almost too-long and my hair’s the best it’s been since I started bleaching the eff outta it.