I’ve always wanted to be Beyoncé. She’s beautiful, successful and powerful. Everybody either envies her or tries to emulate her. I’m of the latter group.

Last year, Beyoncé went vegan for a month, and because imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I challenged myself to give veganism a go as well.

I’m used to seeing the Instagram posts of über healthy, vegan women who prance around barefoot and have hairless cats. They make it seem like veganism is as easy as letting your hair loose and making tofurkey.

I’m what one might call a selective vegetarian. I generally don’t eat a diet very heavy in meats, but I will indulge in Thanksgiving turkey and my mom’s top-notch butter chicken. However, I was naïve. I was convinced that I would give up animal products, start wearing tie-dye and flower crowns and carry on as normal.

I was very, very wrong.

For starters, nothing can replace milk. I don’t care how many “almond delights” and “happy hemp” milks there are. Milk is milk, and almonds are absolutely not cows.

Soybeans are also not cows, and they make straight up nasty ice cream. Yes, you read that right. Soy ice cream exists, and it tastes like bird poop (does that count as an animal product?).

Speaking of soy, let’s talk about how Starbucks thinks it’s OK to charge me extra for soymilk in my decaf, nonfat, lightly iced, upside-down, caramel macchiato with extra caramel and no whipped cream. It’s not OK, and neither was my venture into veganism.

It took all of my will power and strength of character to persevere and to resist the temptation to butter my toast after just two days. At that point, I was in pain, and all I wanted was to take a bath in greek yogurt and honey.

But I did not surrender. Summoning my inner Beyoncé, I poured myself a glass of some horrible milk substitute and carried on with my week of hell.

I was, though, making discoveries left and right: Oreos aren’t vegan, Starbursts aren’t vegan, and everything good and right in the world clearly does not fall under the category of vegan.

As the days passed, I spent the majority of my time lamenting the lack of chocolate pudding in my life and resentfully nibbling on kale. I was living on rabbit food.

One day before my challenge ended, I came to the conclusion that I did not deserve to be relegated from human to burrowing bunny. I was going to eat human food.

My first mouthful of yogurt was heaven. The second was like hearing angels sing. By the third bite, I was floating on an endless wave of dairy bliss.

All said and munched, I don’t think that I’ll be advertising dairy-free dairy products any time soon, and I’m very unlikely to be the poster girl for veganism.

I am, however, likely to be in my room with my decadent bowl of creamy ice cream. As much as I would like to copy Beyoncé’s every move, I don’t think that my love of mocha almond fudge will ever allow me to venture into the land of veganism again.