It’s taken a while to reach boiling point, but I have come to the realisation that I have an egg problem. What started as a few casual eggs every now and then, turned into whole cartons in single sittings.
Quiet nights in turned into folic-fuelled frenzies as I slipped yolk after yolk into my own, as well as my guest’s food. I would incorporate an egg into any activity if there were even a shell of a reason to. My friends and I would have eggs before nights out and I would be fried before we even left the house.
I have become one of those egged up girls I used to laugh at.
Egg stained smile and wandering yolky stare. Just a big cracked mess.
I don’t really know how this has happened, in younger years I was always responsible whilst on the egg. I am guilty of using the egg as a temporary means of forgetting difficult situations. I wasn’t eating eggs to have fun, I was eating eggs to function.
And it would always end up the same..
Five too many XL Freerange later, and the night was destroyed. Although I wouldn’t always be on a downer, excessive happiness from the egg can be just as damaging. These amplified, egged up actions are as good as a giant sign saying
‘My riboflavin levels are imbalanced and I am completely unstable!’
Especially if the yolk abuse is frequent.
Which it was.
I have been asked to leave barns. Door chicks have denied me entry. I’ve been driven home and lectured on excessive egg consumption numerous times.
And it has to stop.
So I am taking a responsible stance.
No Eggs Till Easter.
The era of ‘Eggathons’ is over. It’s time to wipe the egg of my face and have a fresh start.
Now let’s give it a crack.
No comments:
Post a Comment