What is the most disgusting smell you can imagine? 

A skunk? Rotting corpses? Del Playa Drive after Deltopia?

For me, it’s the repugnant smell of chicken, beef, pork, or any dead animal for a matter of fact.

Since day one, I was raised as a vegetarian. This is probably one of the worst decisions my parents could have made for me.

And being inexperienced parents, they have probably made a lot of bad decisions for me.

But now, twenty years have gone by of people shoving meat in my face, mocking me for a choice I had no part in.

“Does this make you want to throw-up?” they joke, hoping to get a reaction out of me.

And by the way, yes, your dead animal skewered on a fork does make me want to throw-up.

Now I just pretend meat doesn’t bother me, even though I would rather drink paint thinner than have a piece of raw chicken anywhere near my kitchen, let alone my plate.

What’s worse is when you constantly have to be the “Debbie Downer” who can’t eat at everyone’s favorite barbecue restaurant.

I know there is a salad on the menu, but let’s be real, I don’t feel like spending $12.50 on a “house salad” made up of dry lettuce, soggy tomatoes and mayonnaise based dressing.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have chosen this lifestyle. It is a hindrance that I find completely unnecessary, but now unchangeable.

Even if I were stranded on an island, dying, and had consumed every edible coconut, I wouldn’t eat a single bite of meat.

I would rather die. No joke.

The worst “meat experience” I have ever had happened less than a week ago. New Orleans is place known for its jazz, not its veggie friendliness.

After receiving a much-anticipated Calzone from a very tacky restaurant, I dove in, unashamedly.

Much to my dismay, three bites in, I stumbled upon a hunk of dead chicken meat hidden by the blood red sauce.

I was not a happy camper and in no mood to make a big fuss over my unpleasant meal considering I had already sent three drinks back.

But for me, I can’t even handle food that has been in contact with flesh outside of a live human’s.

I know this may seem irrational but the idea just disgusts me. However, I am going to stick with blaming my parents for my unfortunate quirk.

Note to my future parent self: let kids choose their own ridiculous eating habits, rather than forcing them into a limited diet.

And don’t even think about asking if I will ever try meat. That calzone was the closest I will ever get to a carcass, so help me God.