Looking back on my childhood, it’s shocking how casually abusive my parents were when over me being vegetarian and later vegan.
Like, you think people who let their pre-teen child go vegetarian, and then vegan a few years later, in the first place would be more supportive and try to work around the restrictions, but even though my parents would buy me alternatives in general, they made eating out and special meals really shitty for literally no reason, and I can’t tell if it started as an attempt to get me to go back to eating meat because no one expected me to actually to stick with it or if they just genuinely didn’t see a problem with anything on the list because they just didn’t care;
Whenever it came to getting fast food in general there wasn’t a lot of places with vegetarian options, let alone vegan. They existed, but it was only a few out of dozens, so when they ordered food from a place with no options for me, which was often, I would just have to make myself something while everyone had take out because I can’t expect my dad to drive all over the place just for me (it was almost always pick up because delivery was expensive.)
And when we were out and getting food on the way home, I was left with just a drink and maybe a side depending on where we went, which in our area was pretty much corn from KFC, apple slices from McDonalds everyone else had full meals, and then I’d have to wait until we got home to make something for myself, and how long that took depended on whether my parents felt like taking us on a drive first.
And then when we finally moved somewhere with more vegan options and restaurants, it was all places no one ever wanted to order from, so again, my dad’s not going to drive all over the place and they weren’t going to pay to have it delivered, so I’d eat what we had at home.
And my birthdays just really sucked, for more reasons than just veganism, but keeping the focus - my siblings would be allowed to choose what we had for dinner while I never was.
They could pick whatever restaurant they wanted, even if there wasn’t anything I could have, but I couldn’t pick vegan restaurants because there has to be something for everyone, and again, and someone always had something to say about where I wanted to get something from, so I usually had to settle, because god forbid my dad pickup food from two places.
And then with home cooked meals, I was never allowed anything that was more required more effort than usual or anything my siblings wouldn’t eat, even though she’d do it for my siblings, because the kitchen wasn’t a restaurant, my mom wasn’t a chef, and she’s not about to cook different meals.
Most of my birthday cakes would wind up either in the bin or mostly eaten by me (which isn’t a great time when your overweight bc you binge eat and your parents never let you forget) because everyone else was weird about eating vegan cake because it was assumed it would taste weird, including my mom, who baked the damn thing.
