There are few key moments from my childhood that I remember crystal clear. There was a particular memory that was the turning point in my diet that led me to Veganism, and unlike most moments, I remember it like it was yesterday.

I grew up in Alabama, in a classic tiny, middle of nowhere town. There I was, a homeschooled child happily living on 3 acres in an old antebellum home. We had all kinds of animals, from ponies to ducks, to sheep to dogs, and finally, chickens. As silly it may sound, they were all my friends and classmates. These animals were my family.

Although I loved all of the animals we had, the chickens held a huge place in my heart. Even the roosters that would on scratch me when I entered into his territory.

On more than one occasion I would spend my meals outside seated next to one of my many friends. I admit, I spoiled them with scraps that were leftover on my plate. One afternoon, I remember munching on some chicken nuggets my mom had heated up. There I sat, six- year-old me mindlessly digesting the very birds that I loved so dearly.

I was so young, so most of the time, I didn’t pay any attention to what I was eating. I ate what my mother gave me, until one day. On this day, I offered Betty Boop, the oldest of the hens, one of these golden battered, fried blobs, that supposedly resembles a nugget. Betty Boop took the piece quite quickly from my hand and gobbled it up. It was at that exact second I realized that something wasn't right. She’s a chicken and she’s eating...chicken?! She could be eating her friend! For the rest of that day I had a sick feeling in my gut.

Due to my infatuation and close ties to these birds I was never able to stomach chicken without numbing my mind to the idea of what and who I was eating. However, from that day on I realized that the living, breathing and loving chicken comes first. Not the branded McDonalds McNugget that comes in three disgustingly recognizable shapes.