My daughter is a vegan. There is nothing I love more than eating a nice juicy steak and yet my daughter is a vegan. I enjoy my food and I hate to admit it but sometimes I think I actually live to eat; my daughter, on the other hand, eats to live. I have a habit of slouching instead of standing up straight. However, if I do make the effort to stand-up I am six foot two and yet my daughter is a mere five foot two. I love loud rock music, my daughter likes silly little pop songs. I am big and loud in company whereas my daughter is quieter (although she has her moments) and petite. I have often accused the hospital of presenting me with the wrong child at birth simply because I cannot think of anyone on this planet who I have less in common with.
Despite our differences, I think I get on with her better than I get on with anyone else. Taking our differences into consideration, I don’t know why. Sometimes friendships end because one side of the relationship says a word out of place and upsets the other. Yet, we often shout and scream at each other calling each other the most terrible of names – yet we just laugh it off.
She berates me for my over-eating and I scold her for her under-eating.
She has been a vegetarian since she saw a video in primary school about how animals are killed to provide us with meat. She later became a vegan. That means no animal produce whatsoever. No eggs, no milk, in fact nothing at all that is of any nutritional value to her. Her diet consists of a couple of nuts stolen from the squirrels and a berry or two picked from a wild bush.
She chastises me like a naughty child if I slip from my healthy diet and have a McDonald’s – or McDeath’s as she likes to call it. McDonald’s is the creation of the devil. The meat is not even meat it is made from brains and bits of tongue left over from when the decent butchers have taken the best cuts – or so she tells me. There is no way in this world that she would ever go anywhere near one of their outlets. They are purveyors of horrible, nasty meat. She would rather be dragged kicking and screaming into the annals of hell before she would set foot inside a McDeath’s.
These days, I am enjoying (if that is the word) a healthy eating lifestyle and it is doing me good – I have lost nearly five stone. However, although I have given up eating McDonald’s burgers, I just cannot give up the evils of their coffee. If you have never had a McDonald’s coffee, let me tell you it is a delight and made with espresso from 100% freshly ground Arabica beans. Despite this, my daughter has always refused to sample their coffee for the same reasons mentioned above.
Just recently, we met for a coffee and couldn’t decide where to go. I suggested McDonald’s as it was near and we only wanted a coffee. She refused. I promised that if she would just try it once she would realise how nice it was and also… I promised, I would never, ever tell another living soul that she had ventured into Satan’s liar. Even if someone poured boiling oil onto my scrotum, I would not reveal the act that would remain our secret until the end of time.
Unless, of course, I was cruel enough to reveal evidence on the internet.