Edible Woman

Tonight, as I reached into the 6-pack of free-range eggs to make myself a yellow pepper/tofu/cumin-gouda omelette, I picked up one of the eggs to break it into the bowl and what I saw instigated a long, sad, horrible moan. LOOK:



AUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, I know I'm eating animal by-product here, but I gave meat up for a reason, people. This sweet little white feather still stuck on the egg is probably it's MOM'S because it lived under the warmth of its mother's sweet, free-ranged bum for, well, at least part of its gestation period. And while I know I can in no way handle a vegan lifestyle, this definitely made me want to turn that way. This certainly made me feel like buying organic AND free-range AND making the lifestyle choice not to ever eat its mother, or any of its fully-gestated family members.....was not enough.

I put that egg back and used 2 other non-feathered ones, and went reluctantly through with the omelette-making, but I only ate half of it. I couldn't escape the sensation that I was eating an abortion. Augh. I felt like the protagonist in Margaret Atwood's wonderful novel The Edible Woman, who slowly finds herself unable to eat, repulsed by almost all foods. It all began with an egg.