I went home that day and told my parents I was no longer going to eat meat, and my reasoning behind it. My mother put her foot down and insisted I at least eat turkey and chicken, otherwise she was not sure I was going to get a balanced diet; I accepted the compromise.
From that day on, I cannot remember having a craving for beef -- the one exception being the time an ex was cooking a savory steak and the marinated was excellent, and I can write that off to the marinade, not the beef. Plus, my family started eating healthier, cutting the red meat practically out of the dinner diet even before it was widely publicized. This brought no end of complaints from my sister, who liked beef, which she didn't get much of after that, and hated fish, which made a much more regular appearance at the dinner table. And she and I ate a lot more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, as my mother's (and then later my dad's, when he took over the cooking role) philosophy on meals, was "If you don't like what I cook, the PB & J is over there."
I just realized that day was 13 years ago. That's a long time to commit to anything.