I was at a gal’s brunch the other day, chatting about how I had missed dinner the previous night because of a pearl run (you know, when your pearls get scuffed by the precious stones in your jewelry box and you need a quick replacement?). So that morning, I decided to go decadent and ordered an omelet. But when the server, Steve, returned with our plates, I saw the type of yellow mass reserved only for pictures – they were eggs. Not egg whites.
“I asked for egg whites,” I told him. “Because I prefer them,” I explained to the table.
And for some reason, people were surprised. “It’s one thing to do it for health,” Sunita said. “But I think eggs with the yolks taste better.” Was this a prank? In what world do eggs taste better with that rich filling and heavy center? For Pete’s sake, did she want to eat the shell, too?
I explained I had no knowledge of the 184 mg of cholesterol in a single buttery yellow egg yolk, and that I just don’t find them tasty.
“Because I prefer them,” I reiterated, so Steve could think about what he almost put in front of me. It’s not about the fat content of a yolk; it’s just about how gross it tastes. Wasn’t that obvious? I mean we eat our baby’s placentas, but would we eat the soft, delicious placenta of a tiny baby bird, too?
Rosie looked at my new plate. “That’s so thin! And mostly spinach!” I stared at the omelet she had so accurately described, waiting for her to stop complimenting me and get to the point. When she didn’t, I rolled my eyes and cut into my heavenly sliver. After all, I deserved it!
That’s when something strange happened. Rosie took a bite of her huevos rancheros – something I had never heard of – and I simply said, “That looks like the grossest thing on the planet.” Then, she accused me of being judgmental! I was like, hold the phone, sister, didn’t you just give me grief for my food preference? Isn’t this the pot calling the light, fluffy egg white kettle black?
Rosie then started explaining the concept of “food-shaming,” but I didn’t quite catch the rest of what she said because I noticed Sunita drinking full-fat Coke instead of Diet Coke (which is what I would be referring to if I said, “I’ll have a Coke”).
Needless to say, this brunch was fraught with tension. I guess it goes to show you that we live in an age where people will accuse you of being “a health freak who’s not fun to go out with” just because your favorite foods happen to be egg whites, sautéed spinach, and steamed broccoli heads without salt (salt tastes like rats). Maybe I should find some other friends?