Eggs are a cheap source of protein. This is what I tell myself when I open the fridge and find only mustard, a wilted stalk of celery, and six eggs. I had devoured my spagetti and sauce, and the bacon had turned an unholy shade of green.
After living for a year on pizza by the slice, eggs have become my main staple as a person living in poverty.
Eggs can be cooked in a lot of yummy ways, unfortunately huevos rancheros cannot be created using limp celery and mustard.
I hate eggs. They have become a symbol of my poverty. They should taste yummy, but when they are the only option for consumption, they choke.
“It could be worse, you could have no eggs.”
Sometimes I have tried to insert moments of poverty in my videos. Counting spare change, taking pills, but nothing has really captured the feelings of utter hopelessness and desperation that come with such actions. I’m thinking of other things I have done, re-roll cigarette butts, that’s a big one, go to the Carnegie, go to Coast’s free Friday dinners. Waiting in line for careless sandwiches.
And eggs, those eggs mock me. I want meat. I want stir frys and salmon and tofu curry. I want fruit and crackers and cheese, and beans, and I make long lists in my head late at night, imagining what I would buy if I got some cash. I’ve grown past the point of living on pizza by the slice and gyros and any other cheap fast food. I like to actually make myself food.
But what can you make when all you have are eggs?