8 things I stopped buying after going plant-based that I genuinely never think about anymore

When I went vegan at 35, I braced myself for a life of constant deprivation. I imagined standing in grocery store aisles, longingly gazing at things I couldn't have, white-knuckling my way through every meal. Five years later, I can tell you that's not how it works at all.

The truth is far less dramatic and far more interesting. Certain items that once felt essential to my existence have simply... vanished from my consciousness. Not through willpower or discipline, but through a quiet rewiring of habits and preferences.

Here are eight things that used to be staples in my life that I genuinely never think about anymore.

1) Cow's milk

I grew up in a household where milk was practically a food group. Cereal, coffee, cooking, baking. It was the default liquid for everything. I remember thinking I'd miss it terribly.

Within about three weeks of switching to oat milk, I forgot cow's milk existed. Not in a dramatic "I'm so enlightened" way, but in the same way you forget about a coworker who leaves the company. They were there, now they're not, and life continues. The last time I thought about cow's milk was probably when someone asked me this exact question.

2) Eggs for breakfast

This one surprised me most. I was a weekend scrambled eggs person. It felt like a ritual, a treat, a marker of slow Saturday mornings. I assumed I'd spend years mourning this loss.

Instead, I discovered that what I actually loved was the ritual itself, not the eggs. Now my Saturday mornings involve tofu scrambles, chickpea flour omelets, or elaborate avocado toast situations. The satisfaction is identical. The craving for eggs specifically? Gone within a month. When did you last examine whether you want the thing itself, or the feeling it represents?

3) Leather goods

I spent fifteen years in finance. My closet was full of leather bags, belts, shoes, and wallets. Quality leather felt like a marker of professionalism, of having "made it." Walking away from that felt like walking away from an identity.

Now I own zero leather items and I genuinely cannot remember the last time I wished I did. The market for high-quality vegan leather has exploded, and more importantly, my definition of professionalism has completely shifted. Turns out "making it" has nothing to do with what animal your accessories came from.

4) Yogurt

Greek yogurt was my go-to afternoon snack for years. Protein-packed, convenient, felt virtuous. I stocked up every grocery trip without thinking.

Coconut yogurt, oat yogurt, cashew yogurt. The alternatives aren't just adequate; some of them are genuinely better. I found brands I prefer to anything I ate before.

The dairy yogurt section of the grocery store is now just visual noise I walk past. It's remarkable how quickly "essential" items become invisible when you find something that works better for you.

5) Whey protein powder

As a trail runner logging 20-30 miles a week, I was convinced I needed whey protein. It was non-negotiable, backed by years of fitness culture messaging. Research has shown that plant-based proteins can be equally effective for muscle synthesis when consumed in adequate amounts, but I didn't know that then.

Pea protein, hemp protein, blends. My recovery hasn't suffered. My running has actually improved, though I attribute that more to overall dietary changes than any single swap. The tub of whey that once dominated my kitchen counter has been replaced, and I couldn't tell you the last time I thought about it.

6) Cheese as a snack

I'll be honest: cheese was the thing I thought would break me. Fancy cheese plates, cheese and crackers, cheese on everything. I was a cheese person.

Here's what I've learned: I was actually a "rich, savory, satisfying snack" person. Hummus, marinated olives, roasted nuts, cashew-based spreads. The craving wasn't for cheese specifically. It was for that particular eating experience.

Once I found other ways to satisfy it, the cheese craving faded. Do I occasionally smell really good cheese and feel a flicker of something? Sure.

But it passes in seconds, and I never act on it. That's different from what I expected.

7) Honey

Honey felt like the most innocent thing to give up. It's natural, it's from bees, what's the harm? I used it in tea, in baking, in marinades. It was a pantry staple I reached for without thinking.

Maple syrup, agave, date syrup. These aren't compromises; they're just different options that work equally well. Learning about commercial beekeeping practices made the switch easier, but honestly, I would have forgotten about honey anyway. It just stopped being something my brain registered as an option.

8) Wool sweaters

I live in a climate where warm layers matter. Wool felt like the only serious option for cold weather. Merino base layers, wool socks, cashmere sweaters. I invested in these pieces and expected to miss them.

The textile industry has evolved dramatically. High-quality synthetic and plant-based alternatives exist that perform just as well. My running gear is entirely wool-free and handles temperature regulation beautifully. The wool section of outdoor stores has become another aisle I simply don't see anymore.

Final thoughts

What strikes me most about this list isn't the items themselves. It's how completely they've faded from my awareness. I didn't white-knuckle my way to forgetting about them. I didn't use discipline or willpower. I simply found alternatives, and my brain did the rest.

This is what I wish someone had told me five years ago: going plant-based isn't about deprivation. It's about substitution, and then forgetting. The things you think you can't live without? Give it six months. You might be surprised by how little mental space they occupy.

What would it feel like to discover that the things you're most attached to could simply... fade away?