In a shocker metamorphosis similar to Kafka’s bug case, one morning, I woke up as a vegan. Well, okay, I may have had more input into my transformation than poor Gregor Samsa into his.

Over the past six months or so, my social media had become bombarded by vegan avocado-hummus-quinoa animal-loving earth-saving food porn courtesy of the procrastination trinity of Instagram, BuzzFeed and Pinterest. Being the susceptible soul that I am, in a slightly sleep-deprived state after a day of memorising the intricacies of Japanese word order patterns (a very efficient way of achieving a proper mind fog, I assure you), I decided to pitch a column about going full-on vegan for a term, without much hope or agenda for the proposal to actually being accepted.

My Varsity fortune would have it otherwise. Apparently exploring an exponentially growing food trend and its socio-cultural implications (dissertation topic, anyone?) wasn’t rejected but accepted with undertones of incredulity, bemusement, and a healthy dose of Schadenfreude:

“You mean you’d actually go vegan for a whole term?”

“Uh huh, what wouldn’t a girl do to build up that student journo portfolio!”

Now, you might be inclined to argue that turning vegan overnight is not actually quite on the same scale as waking up as an insect, especially given the fact that before my metamorphoses I was already an increasingly dedicated and decreasingly naughty vegetarian. For the record, the last time I committed a veggie sin was at John’s May Ball when, in the early hours leading up to the survivors’ photo, I encountered an unlimited supply of Scotch eggs – going on a Scotch eggs binge is perhaps not the classiest thing to do at a ball, but my desires can be… unconventional.

Yet veganism is so much more than avoiding the obvious no-nos of meat, dairy, and eggs: my first trip to Sainsbury’s as a vegan to fill my glaringly empty gyp room cupboard turned into a crash course in what all veganism can be in practice – as well as a very extended break from doing a degree.

"Will I turn into a tree-hugging, cow-loving, hemp-wearing hippy type? A smoothie-bowl-snacking, fruit-juice-blending, avocado-and-lemon-toast-producing superstar?"

First on my shopping list was breakfast. No doubt because of people hopping onto the Veganuary bandwagon, Sainsbury’s had very kindly put non-dairy Alpro soy yoghurts on offer right at the entrance, after the £1 cookies and muffins at pride of place (which, incidentally, are now out of bounds to me because of their egg and dairy content; I’m thinking of going into mourning for no longer being able to Taste the Difference of white chocolate and raspberry cookies). I’m a great believer in bananas with yoghurt, and with a bunch of Fairtrade bananas in my basket, I felt like the world was already a more cruelty-free, environmentally healthy place.

But just as I was considering whether I should go and give the cows at King’s backs a hug to celebrate my new vegan existence, obstacles appeared. I like adding some crunch to the start of my day (no, I’m not paid to do cereal marketing, it’s just that I’m a self-confessed granola addict); however, most granolas include honey, and utilising the fruits of bee labour is out of question.

It took some very dedicated scrutinising product labels and, in the end, a trip to a health food shop to find a nice vegan option that was incidentally also marketed as a superfood – and given how much brain energy I spent on product label study, my grey cells felt like they needed nothing less than superfood to wholly recover. The honey debacle didn’t end there, though: it’s smuggled into everything from benign-looking falafel (goodbye to my lunch plans) to my trusty herbal iron supplement.

After all this, I can hear wide-eyed whys, wondering if I’m just a masochist in disguise, trying to finding new ways of self-torture and then writing about them (I’d like to say no to the masochism allegation, but then again I’ve been known to survive on five hours of sleep just to beat the shower queues in the morning, and there was the time I run five days and 30 miles on a fractured pelvis because no pain, no gain. Oh, and I study at Cambridge.)

Sometimes curiosity trumps convenience. Will I turn into a tree-hugging, cow-loving, hemp-wearing hippy type? A smoothie-bowl-snacking, fruit-juice-blending, avocado-and-lemon-toast-producing superstar because it’s all about #eatingfortheinsta? A monstrous bug? Or just a normal human being who happens to avoid anything animal-based? It’s time to find out. The V-card has been played