Breakfast. Part 1: the eggs.

Eggs. Don’t remind me of them. Don’t remind me of my mum who LOVES them. Don’t even think about them. They are disgusting. Why is it that I dislike them so much when my mum loves them so? I have no idea. But I do know that it is torture whenever my mum places an egg on toast in front of me for breakfast. I can hear her knife and fork scraping at one right now! The smell of them is nauseating and I take so long to eat them (due to my dislike) that they go all cold and mushy before I can finish them. The only time I like them is when their flavour is locked away in a cupcake or a chocolate mousse, or even a pancake when it is mostly made up of them. Just never ever give me an egg on toast, a boiled one, a steamed one, or a fried one. Scrambled I can only just live with. Tomorrow I will go on about toast and the next day I will go on about vegemite and so forth. So you see, Breakfast is my least favourite meal of the day. It is a pity it is supposed to be the best one for you…

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