I am not the Food Police

We have raised two generations of people who don’t know how to cook. Many are quite proud of it, as if being able to cook implied a lower caste upbringing. Most people I ask tell me that they eat pretty healthfully. They often say they don’t eat much red meat, only chicken and fish. Sometimes they seem defensive; sometimes, nearly apologetic. They confess. They give their excuse. It was our anniversary. I just can’t resist desserts. We were on vacation.

I am often tempted to preach a gospel of whole food, plant-based eating. I resist, internally reciting my mantra of “I am not the food police.” Evangelical missionaries, no matter how convinced of the correctness and necessity of their message, just end up annoying me. I realize how annoyed I would have been (before my own conversion) if someone preached to me that I was eating all wrong. It seems to be a message which one has to be ready to accept, and further urging increases resistance, rather than acceptance. People tend to focus more on what they have to give up, rather than what they gain in return, so even a tremendous return over the long term may seem a bad bargain for a painful sacrifice in the short term.