From vegoutmag.com
By Avery White
What if we upgraded our dinner questions from “But don’t you miss bacon?” to “What changed your taste buds the most?”
We all have our conversational blind spots, don’t we?
Recently I asked ten vegans—friends from my local farmers’ market, a couple of coaching clients, and a neighbour—what question they’re most tired of hearing.
I expected a wide grab bag. Instead, the same few popped up again and again.
Hearing them side‑by‑side was a masterclass in how curiosity can accidentally veer into cliché, judgment, or even micro‑aggression.
Why does this matter for you (even if you’re not vegan)? Because the way we question others reveals our own assumptions.
Upgrade your questions and you upgrade your relationships. Here are the repeat offenders they named—and what to do instead.
1. Where do you get your protein?
No surprise: this was unanimous. Every single person rolled their eyes before answering.
It’s annoying because it assumes deficiency first and curiosity second.
One friend said, “You’d never open a conversation with an omnivore by asking if they’re getting enough fibre.”
Nutritionally, it’s also outdated. Beans, lentils, tofu, tempeh, seitan, peas, nuts, and whole grains more than cover daily needs.
As the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics has stated, “appropriately planned vegetarian, including vegan, diets are healthful, nutritionally adequate…”
In other words: the science has moved on; the stereotype hasn’t.
If you’re genuinely curious, ask something richer like, “What are some plant‑based meals you’re loving lately?” That invites sharing instead of defence.
2. Don’t you miss cheese/bacon/ice cream?
This one grated (no pun intended) because it frames veganism as constant deprivation.
Several people laughed and said, “I forgot about bacon until someone reminded me I was supposed to mourn it.”
Psychologically, when we imply someone is sacrificing pleasure, we project our own fear of change.
Most of the vegans I spoke to described palate shifts: after a few months, plant foods taste fuller, and the emotional payoff—aligning values with actions—outweighs nostalgia.
Personally, after experimenting with more plant‑based meals myself, I’ve noticed how quickly habits rewire. Cravings are not fixed; they’re trained.
A better angle: “What helped the transition feel easy?” That respects agency and opens a practical conversation.
3. If you were trapped on a desert island with only a chicken/cow…
Ah yes—the hypothetical apocalypse scenario. Everyone groaned at this one.
It’s annoying because it trivializes real daily choices by forcing an absurd moral dilemma.
It’s like asking someone committed to nonviolence if they’d punch a stranger to save a busload of puppies. Extreme hypotheticals rarely produce insight; they just create gotcha theatre.
Why do people ask it? Often to reassure themselves that “everyone breaks eventually,” so they don’t have to examine their own dissonance.
But edge‑case ethics aren’t required to evaluate normal‑life decisions. If you catch yourself reaching for a desert‑island fantasy, pause.
Try: “What initially motivated you to shift—and what keeps you going now?” That’s grounded in reality.
4. Isn’t it expensive?
Half the group heard this weekly. It’s frustrating because it reflects a narrow picture of veganism built from specialty products—artisanal cashew brie, $9 pints of plant ice cream.
Strip those away and the core staples (rice, oats, potatoes, beans, lentils, seasonal vegetables) are among the most budget‑friendly foods available.
I spent years as a financial analyst; spreadsheets love legumes.
The money trap isn’t plant foods—it’s convenience. Pre‑packaged meals, regardless of diet, inflate costs.
Several respondents said going vegan actually simplified budgeting: batch‑cooked soups, big bags of dried beans, and fewer impulse restaurant orders.
If cost is your genuine concern, ask: “How do you keep plant‑based eating affordable?” Now you might learn tips you can apply to your own grocery bill.
5. Are you sure you’re getting enough nutrients—like B12 or iron?
This one sits close to the protein question but has its own sting.
It subtly pathologizes the person: “You look fine, but are you secretly fragile?” Yes, vegans have to be intentional about B12 (a simple supplement) and occasionally iron.
So do many omnivores—fatigue clinics are not overflowing solely with plant‑eaters.
One woman told me, “My mom worries about my B12 while taking three medications diet could help.”
Over-analysing someone else’s micronutrients is rarely welcome unless you’re their clinician. A respectful alternative: “What resources helped you plan your diet?”
That acknowledges competence instead of implying negligence.
6. Why can’t you just eat this one thing? (Usually said while waving a slice of pizza)
Social pressure disguised as casual teasing came up repeatedly.
The issue isn’t the offer—it’s the insistence. When someone declines and is prodded again (“Come on, just a bite”), it signals that your comfort matters more than their boundary. That erodes trust.
Underneath, the teaser may fear judgment: “If you won’t eat it, are you implying I’m wrong for eating it?”
But food choices don’t have to be moral scorecards. Practicing curiosity about our own discomfort is growth work.
Instead of persuading, try neutrality: “No worries—want me to set aside something without cheese next time?” That tiny shift turns resistance into collaboration.
7. Isn’t veganism extreme?
Labelling a choice “extreme” is a quick way to shut down nuance.
Several of the people I interviewed pointed out the irony: raising and slaughtering billions of animals, shipping their feed across continents, and dealing with environmental fallout is normalized; opting out is framed as radical.
As researcher Joseph Poore noted in discussing his environmental analysis, “[a] vegan diet is probably the single biggest way to reduce your impact on planet Earth”.
When evidence suggests something significantly reduces harm, maybe “extreme” really means “outside my current comfort zone.”
If you feel that itch to dismiss, upgrade the script: “What benefits have you personally noticed?” Stories soften defensiveness.
8. Why are you trying to convert everyone?
This popped up particularly for those who share recipes online.
The annoying part? It assumes motive.
Sharing enthusiasm is not the same as proselytizing. One respondent said, “If I post a lasagne, someone comments ‘Stop forcing your diet on us.’
Meanwhile, my aunt posts turkey carving pics every holiday.”
Projection again: we often map our own fear of being pressured onto others. Instead of challenging intent, assume good faith. Ask: “What inspired you to start sharing?”
You might hear about health changes, ethical awakenings, or creative joy—all humanizing narratives.
9. Why do you care more about animals than people?
This question stings because it sets up a false binary. Compassion isn’t a finite pie. In fact, practicing empathy in one domain often expands it elsewhere.
Several vegans in my mini‑survey volunteer with human‑focused charities as well. The accusation tries to rank moral priorities instead of noticing overlap.
Communication‑wise, this question also violates a basic listening principle.
As Stephen R. Covey observed, “Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply”. If we approached conversations to understand values rather than score them, this binary wouldn’t arise.
A healthier alternative: “How does your diet connect with your broader values?” That invites bridge‑building.
10. So what can we ask instead?
After venting, the group lit up when I flipped the script: What questions feel respectful? Their favourites were open, growth‑oriented, and specific:
“What plant‑based meal would you cook for a sceptic?”
“How did your taste buds change over time?”
“What made the transition hardest—and what helped?”
Those land because they prioritize learning over defending. They also model a broader self‑development skill: interrogating our assumptions before opening our mouths.
Final thoughts
If you recognized yourself in any of the “annoying” questions, no shame. I’ve asked a couple of them in the past too.
Awareness is the hinge that swings behaviour. The next time curiosity strikes, pause and ask: Am I seeking connection—or confirmation of my own narrative?
Aim for connection. The conversation—and the relationship—gets better from there.
https://vegoutmag.com/lifestyle/a-i-asked-10-vegans-what-the-most-annoying-question-is-they-all-said-the-same-few-things/
