I have a confession to make: I am a vegetarian. You may have guessed that already based off my whack-job theory of how to save penguins that this blog is titled for, but if not, there it is.

When I was about 7 years old, my brain made the connection between “chicken” the animal and the “chicken” humans eat and realized what was going on. From literally that moment of horrific epiphany onward, I’ve never eaten another animal in my life.

Maybe it was the fact that I raised myself holding cartoon animals as role models and internalizing their lessons about life and morals, or maybe it’s just that most of my friends growing up were stuffed animals, but the idea of eating some other creature remotely like myself instantly traumatized me.

I try to always tell the truth whenever possible, but I learned early on not to be upfront about disclosing being a vegetarian, because that tends to be a loaded word that rubs people the wrong way. For whatever reason, it’s my experience that when I tell someone I don’t eat meat, they want me to justify myself and explain my values. And, well, I just don’t like to argue about something personal like values.

I’ve had some success in the past telling people who press me on it that eating animals violates my sense of justice, but I think it’s actually more that the notion of it just makes me really sad.

When television presents anthropomorphic pigs and ducks and rabbits to a kid as exemplar bringers of life lessons, it’s hard to conceive of them as lower beings meant to be killed and consumed for unnecessary purposes.

My brother-in-law used to profess how much he loved ducks, so it’s a deep incongruity to me that he’s able to go into restaurants and enjoy eating one. This is the sort of thing about being human I don’t think I’ll ever comprehend.

I try not to tell people I’m a vegetarian unless I have to. I’m not “ashamed” of it exactly, but my impression is that oftentimes people seem to think that they’re being judged or looked down upon when they find out someone else (ie me) is a vegetarian.

Even so, I don’t really get where that belief comes from. I’ve never in my life told anyone they were wrong for eating meat or that they shouldn’t, and I like to think I’m about as non-threatening presence as exists.

But still, there seems to be a palpable shift in others’ aura or attitudes whenever my sordid status as a non-meat-eater for 30+ years comes to light.

If I’m not trying to force my dietary views on others, I don’t get why they want to argue or push their perspectives on me. I can cook up a Boca Burger without feeling superior to anyone else—I wish everyone could accept that without thinking I want to debate them on their viewpoints or the merits of eating meat.

At some point, I think it permeated the public consciousness that every vegetarian was like a fractionally small group of militant PETA nutjobs, and because people are easily swayed to hate those who are different, this was easy and convenient to accept. But thinking every non-meat-eater is a holier-than-thou psycho is akin to thinking every person who identifies as a Republican is a MAGA hat-wearing white supremacist. It’s just not realistic.

It’s implausible to me why anyone would think not eating meat would make me feel “better” than anyone else. Having these feelings that make me a vegetarian aren’t easy and it isn’t fun. It’s a burden. Another barrier that separates me from other people.

It’s not being able to split a pizza with my best friend, not being able to eat at a club or work event if what’s provided isn’t suitable, and being “that person” acquaintances ask where it’s appropriate to go to eat at because of my “dietary restrictions”.

As far as my actual diet goes, I’ve been called “the worst vegetarian on Earth” by multiple people over the years, which I think is sort of weird since I never professed to eat healthily or nutritiously— I just said that I didn’t eat animals.

Growing up, I’d happily subsist on candy, macaroni and cheese, potato chips, crackers and anything similarly full of cheese, starch or sugar I could get my hands on.

As long as I kept my mouth shut and was cheap to feed my parents didn’t really care, and “healthy” was much less of a concern to me than foods having an offensive flavor or texture (like onions).

Once I went off to college and had better access to a variety of foods, my diet minimally evolved.

So what do I actually eat as an adult? As a general rule, if an entree is not something you’d find on a kids’ menu (or the veggie equivalent), I won’t eat it. So thumbs up to grilled cheese, fries, veggie burgers (with just ketchup and no other junk on them) and cheese pizza, but thumbs down to salads, pizzas with “toppings”, wraps, vegetable sandwiches, chili, etc. Baked goods and desserts are workable as well. (I also have a profound weakness for “limited edition” junk foods and sodas, but that’s neither here nor there.)

So, in conclusion: No, I don’t eat animals, nor do I eat healthily. Yes, being vegetarian sucks, but it’s what I’m wired to be nonetheless. And no, I don’t want to talk about it any further. So leave me alone to eat a ludicrous amount of Skittles and continue cheering for the roadrunner to elude the coyote and live another day.