There was a period in my life when I would not eat eggs because of a vague feeling of shame associated with them. Not the shame a vegan would experience, or an informed consumer, or the recipient of a bad egg. Just a feeling: inappropriate, embarrassing, odd. An intervention and some searching questions made me come to the realization that it was the sound of the word that evoked those feelings.
My friends helped me, working slowly, to face the fear. We called them huevos for about a year.
Tonight we brought the salt outside the egg in a radical new dying technique. Alas, scant success.
1 comment:
Word freak!
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