Everyone has something to hide. Change is hard. Breaking the news to those close to you is even harder.
Have no fear, my friend. It’s a moment we all must face, unless you want to live a shallow, hollow lie of a life. And the last thing you want is to be found at 3 a.m behind a dumpster getting your fix of raw veggies and Kale smoothies, all because you were too scared to own up to the world and come out publicly as a healthy eater.
So man up. Suck it up. Get it done.
Here’s a few tips to guide you through that coming out process.
Think you’re ready to shout your new healthy lifestyle from the rooftops? Whoa now! Let’s take a moment first and think this through. Sure, you think you’re hot shit now. After all, a half-dozen of your friends couldn’t even make it a week before falling flat on their face with their failed New Year’s resolutions to “get their shit together!” and “live life to the fullest!” and whatever other drunken proclamations happened ten minutes before the ball dropped on 2012. Just remember though, it’s not even February.
Now, some of you may say I’m not being very supportive. And that’s true. I’m also trying to prevent you the shame of another round of public failure courtesy of high hopes and bad planning, like that time you shelled out your hard-earned money for those hip, new, blazing orange crocs that were all the rage. Then you kicked your feet up on the coffee table all sass and swagger until your friends burst into fits of howling laughter and finger pointing.
All I’m saying is, make sure your in it for the long haul before you pick up the phone and dial CNN.
2) “The Talk”
Ah, the big moment arrives. You call the family meeting. Everyone gathers, nervous you got some girl pregnant or accidentally ran over a hobo on your way back from Starbucks. But it’s much worse. You finally admit, “Guys, I’m a vegan.” They never even saw it coming.
Your mom might sob hysterically and ask if the meatloaf she made you eat all those years was really that bad. Your dad might declare the good lord made animals to eat, and say it’s disgusting even thinking about how a man do that horrible act–eating only “rabbit food.”
Or they may look at you sadly and speak real quiet: It’s fine if you are that way, son. Just not around the kids. And definitely don’t tell the neighbors. My lord, what will our meat-eating friends think?
3) The Aftermath
So it’s all over now, right? You get to live an open life happy and carefree? Wrong. In a world overflowing with meat, cheese, greasy fast food, and processed garbage, you are the freak. Accept it. Embrace it. Understand you will have to explain to strangers this new fad going around called “eating healthy” and “trying not to die.”
Healthy eating alone–in secret–well, it’s easy as pie. But now that your public, by golly, everyone and their mother will have some sort of opinion on every morsel that passes your lips. You will quickly learn at least half the people in your home town are actually certified nutrition experts. And to think, no one ever paid your diet half a moment’s thought when you gorged on Twinkies and pizza every night.
You can politely try to inform them all, or, better idea, learn not give a shit what other people think about you. I think that’s a healthier way to live life.
4) Going All-in
You may be tempted to just go all-in now that you’re all-out. But be cautious. Living in the closet so long can make you overzealous. Next thing you know you’re walking down the street with a new found strut in your step, sipping a green smoothie and preaching to the world about composting and Kale chips. I’m glad your excited. Truly, I am! But chill out, man. Take it easy.
This is an important rule, so pay attention. Don’t burn through all your hippie mojo day one. It’s like fairy dust, that stuff. It’s potent. A little bit goes a long way. Sprinkle a dash on some kids and soon your off flying to Neverland to fight pirates. Pour the whole jar over the same kids and all you got is a couple of sad sneezing children sitting in a room full of dust and no more fairy magic to help you fly.
What I’m saying is, well, you just don’t want an empty jar and crying kids. Make sense?
No it doesn’t, you say? Oh well. I’m just going to follow my own advice and try not to give a damn.