by Max Cea
I am a carnivore. Just yesterday I ate sausage with my eggs at breakfast, a few slices of prosciutto at lunch, a hot dog and chicken breast at dinner. By my math, that’s half a farm. Over the course of ten hours.
Make no mistake: I don’t reveal all the digested animals floating through my intestines with pride. But nor do I, in my heart of hearts, feel deep shame. My feelings towards meat are more complicated: I love the taste of chicken, ham, steak, you name it; my body feels best when meat makes up a large portion of my diet; and it doesn’t bother me to think about humans killing animals. But on the other hand, it does bother me to think about big farms treating animals inhumanely before they kill them, and I do worry about the environmental impact of my meat-eating.