I’ve been a vegetarian for Sixteen years now, and without hesitation, it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
When I think back to where it all began, I realise it wasn’t one dramatic moment, it was a gradual thing. I think I was still at school when I first decided I didn’t want to eat minced meat anymore. There was something about it that just didn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t fully explain it at the time, but I knew I didn’t like it, not just the texture or taste, but the thought of it. I mean ground up meat, the thought turns my stomach every time I think about it. Still being at school at the time my poor mum had to think of other meals for me when she would do a classic bolognaise or a mince meat and vegetable dish.
Later on in life I remember mentioning to my mum that I didn’t really like the idea of eating meat at all anymore. I expected resistance, maybe even a chat about nutrition. Instead, she simply said, “Why don’t you look at becoming a vegetarian?”
And that was it. Something clicked. She had said what I’d already been feeling deep down. And clearly I never looked back.
After not eating mince meat for a number of years, next I stopped eating chicken. Slowly, step by step, I transitioned into being fully vegetarian. It wasn’t pushed on me, my parents weren’t vegetarian. I do have one aunt who was and still is, but it was never something that was encouraged or influenced at all. This was my decision. Entirely my own.
I chose kindness – I’ve always been an animal person. The kind who would rather sit with a dog than at a crowded party. My stance has always been simple: all animals matter. I don’t look at a chicken any differently than I look at a dog. Once that belief really rooted itself in me, I couldn’t ignore it.
The first few months were an adjustment, of course. There were slip-ups and truthfully there were slips for the first few years! A hungover stop at McDonald’s that felt like survival at the time, and my mum’s beef casserole, which had been a winter comfort staple in our house for years. And I’m pretty sure there was the odd ham sandwich here and there. Change isn’t always easy, it’s all about perseverance.
Sixteen years later, I don’t miss eating meat. I don’t miss the taste, but when my parents are cooking bacon for a fried breakfast or bacon baguettes on Christmas morning, I enjoy the smell, and then I miss the nostalgia of certain meals, the flavours I grew up with, but I don’t miss what it represents. And thank god vegetarian food has come such a long way since I started.
When I first became vegetarian, eating out could be painfully underwhelming. The options were usually a roasted stuffed pepper or a Caesar salad without the chicken. I once ordered that Caesar salad and was served a bowl of romaine lettuce and croutons. That was it. No effort. No imagination. Just leaves and bread. Back then, being vegetarian definitely wasn’t fashionable.
Now it’s completely different. The options are endless. Supermarkets are packed with plant-based alternatives. Restaurants actually think about their vegetarian menus. There’s creativity, flavour, and real choice. But for me, it’s never been about trends.
One of the most special parts of this journey has been watching my family make their own choices. Last April (2025), my mum became a vegetarian. After years of cooking and eating traditional meat-based meals, she watched an advert on TV that completely changed her perspective. It shifted her whole stance. And just like that, she decided she was done. I am so incredibly proud of her. She’s coming up to almost a year meat-free, and seeing her make that change later in life is inspiring. It shows that growth doesn’t stop. That we can rethink habits we’ve had for decades. That kindness can find you at any stage of life.
My sister has also chosen kindness and is now fully vegetarian. Although I have to lovingly mention our previous Florida trips where she couldn’t resist a Wendy’s burger. Holiday mode clearly has its own rules. But that’s the thing, it’s a journey, not perfection. And she found her way back to it.
Then there’s my husband, Luke. Luke is a meat eater. He loves meat, chicken and a good bit of beef in particular. And while I won’t pretend I love that, I also don’t judge him or turn my nose up in disgust. That’s his choice. Just as vegetarianism was mine.
He is incredibly supportive of my plant-based lifestyle, after all, this was me long before I met him. He happily eats the plant-based meals I cook: Quorn chillies, tofu curries, veggie pasta bakes. He’s swapped his dairy milk for oat and almond milk without complaint. He never makes me feel awkward or difficult. And always checks restaurant menus before we go anywhere to make sure there is a variety for me.
And yes, although I hate it, I will cook him chicken. I cringe at the thought and sometimes gag as I do it, but I do it because relationships are about balance and respect. Love isn’t about forcing someone to live exactly as you do. It’s about understanding each other’s differences. What matters to me is that he respects my values. And he does.
Sixteen years in, vegetarianism isn’t something I actively think about every day. It’s just who I am. It’s how I cook, shop, host dinners, and live my life.
I was vegetarian before it became fashionable. Before plant-based aisles and oat milk lattes were everywhere. And I’m proud of that, in a personal way.
Because at the heart of it, this was never about trends. It was about listening to that small voice I had as a teenager sitting at the dinner table, realising I didn’t want to eat minced meat anymore.
It was about choosing kindness. And sixteen years later, I would choose it all over again.
