I'm not sure where the term "vegetarian" came from, but I believe it is derived from an old Native American word meaning "shitty hunter." 

As someone who would probably choose to lose an arm over giving up meat, my sister joining the ranks of these "progressive" eaters has posed some dietary issues for me this summer. Don't get me wrong - if you have the self-control or desire to forego meat products, more power to you.  If I'm honest I'll admit it's healthier and vegetarians don't usually stick out too badly. They aren't likely to give you a dirty look if you choose a steak with dinner, and are generally content to graze away on their rabbit food in peace. But vegans are a whole different story.

Let's first start with some background. My little sister (who's 17, so don't get too excited guys) was recently signed by the Ford Modeling Agency. She has been a vegetarian for years, mostly on the grounds that she can't stand the idea of any animal dying. My dad and I have had to "rescue" countless bugs from her room/bathroom only to crumple them up once we were safely out of her view. However, on one of her orientation trips to the Chicago modeling studio, she met a nutritionist that would change her (and unfortunately my) life. I haven't met this man, but I'm picturing the "fitness Jesus" with a 6-pack who runs laps in the studio wearing a headband and subsisting entirely on celery and kale, whatever kale is.  I say Jesus because my sister follows his advice like it is the gospel truth. Like some extra commandment has been added to the list that goes something like, "Thou shalt not consume nor purchase any food that your family likes to eat."  When I first arrived home this summer I was confronted by a kitchen changed. Organic almond butter had replaced my trusty post-workout Jiff, apples and kale lined the fridge where glistening rows of moist chicken breasts and steaks used to reside, and the milk had all been replaced by its metrosexual cousin - almond milk.  

Now, I have re-stocked the chicken and eggs in our kitchen, but largely try and humor her in her attempts to impose her borderline anorexic model diet on the rest of the family. To be fair, I'm definitely in better shape than I have been since going to college. The food is unusual at first, but it does grow on you. It has been a healthy summer in this regard. I've been running and going to the gym with her, watching what I eat, and nodding encouragingly as she spouts knowledge about one superfood or another (that I don't think I can pronounce even after completing English 1313). I suppose I should thank her. After all, summer is for two things: Enjoying a stress-free several months with your old high school friends… and creating enough of a fitness buffer to survive your subsequent semester away without moving up a few pants sizes. 

It's a sort of reverse hibernation where rush events and all-you-can-eat buffets at Umphrey Lee during the semester take the place of catatonic sleep, and talking yourself through your hour long cardio sessions day after summer day. But then you go home and the cycle repeats - nature's balance is a beautiful thing.