The Turning Point.

I have a habit of writing blogs that are pointless. Entertaining yes, but pointless. But not today. Today's blog is serious. It may be one of the few times that I write a serious blog so it's a bit of a monumental day. Let us begin. 

I love ducks. They are my favorite animal. I know you're probably thinking this is a joke but hear me out. Most people choose exotic favorite animals which they need to visit a zoo to see, but not me, I can actually own my favorite animal. And I do. Due to my love of this adorable fluffy, swimming creature I have managed to avoid eating duck for 21 years, or 7,877 days. That is, until yesterday.

I grew up in a family where I was expected to eat everything that was on my plate. And I mean everything. It didn't matter if you cried for hours you weren't leaving the table until that plate was empty. There are starving children all over the world, my parents would croon. In retrospect, this wasn't a terrible part of my childhood. I wasn't traumatized by eating food and nothing went to waste, however, I did form this moral inclination to eat everything that's offered to me. And that's where yesterday's troubles began. I was out at dinner at a Chinese (or Thai, or more simply, some sort of Asian) restaurant and we were sharing three mains. Fish, red meat and, of course *sobs*, duck. Let me be clear, no one forced me to eat the duck. I wasn't held down by three gnarly looking men and threatened to be killed if I didn't eat. I did this to myself. You know those moments where you think it's a dream but you realize that it's not and in your mind you repeats phrases to help you get through it? That. That was yesterday. As I looked at the tiny piece of duck on my plate, and I mean tiny, it was about 5cm long, my brain started chanting things like, 'YOU CAN DO IT' and 'DO NOT CRY!'. So I did. I ate duck. As I put my fork in my mouth I had a flashback and it looked like this. 

This is my duck, Paddlefeet. 

Not so cute now, huh?

 I feel dirty. And now I'm vegetarian.