So my first week at the vegan thing was a success. I had my cravings, sure. But I was enjoying the challenge in the cooking department. Preparing balanced meals that satisfied my cravings wasn’t as challenging as it had been in the past. The milk in the cereal thing was solved by abstaining from cereal altogether. (I really do need to find a better milk substitute.) The cheese drawer was avoided at all costs.
But then I came to New York. As a lover of all things food, New York is my soul-city. Delicious, decadent, heaven. I knew I’d slip up here and there, indulge in cheeses, maybe a dessert or two, no big. New York has so many top notch vegan and vegetarian restaurants, it shouldn’t be an issue. And yet.
Susan stocked up on my favorite chocolate milk (woman takes such phenomenal care of me it’s a wonder I ever leave), there’s been cheese at every meal, and at that point it’s like eh, everything else is shot to shit, may as well go for the dessert. Salted pistachio caramel soft serve from Milk Bar, you are divine. (Call me!) Yesterday I gave my first real effort to get back on the vegan bandwagon (even snagging superb tofu “cream cheese” at my favorite Brooklyn bagel shop), but then was unable to resist Trader Joe’s ridiculously creamy mocha yogurt (hey, I can’t get that shit at home). Talk about utter failure.
It’s been shot to hell. I’d like to say I’m giving it my best effort, but really, I’m not. I was, but the deliciousness that is New York is too much for me to turn down. I’m trying not to beat myself up over it, but part of me wishes I was able to stick to my guns.
Tomorrow is my last day in New York, but then I’m in DC (and still wining and dining with friends every day) so I probably won’t be much better. Realistically, it’ll probably be next week when I’m home that I’ll be back on track.
Which is a cop-out, I know. So much for self discipline.
