Eggs+Me=Complicated

In honor of my dinner of eggs and toast, I am going to bless you with a post about EGGS. Scrambled eggs, specifically.

I know! So exciting.

• The only way I will eat eggs is if they are scrambled.
• I didn’t like eggs until I was 22ish. Might have been 23.
• I didn’t know how to make scrambled eggs until I was 22ish. Might have been 23.
• Up until about 6 months ago, when making scrambled eggs, I had to close my eyes because it creeped me out to see the yolk get broken. I felt like a baby chicken murderer even though I KNEW that that there was no way that egg was ever gonna produce a chicken. Yes, it is very complicated being me.
• In the past year, I’ve learned that the yolk is not the baby chicken part of the egg.
• I can now watch myself scramble the eggs. This makes me feel very grownup.
• I used to be able to eat scrambled eggs by themselves, however, in the past month the texture of them has started to gross me out so that I have to eat them on something…like toast.
• Even though I cannot eat 2 eggs because I get full, I must make 2 because but 1 is generally not enough to satisfy. It’s a quandary, I tell ya’.
• In order for me not to gag, my scrambled eggs have to be cooked until they are not wet in any way.

Ok...well, I guess that pretty much sums up my complicated relationship with eggs. Do you feel closer to me? Cuz I feel closer to you.