Concentration camp and eggs.

Growing up as a missionary kid my parents always told me:
"You find something that you like and you eat it with a smile on your face."
I did.
Russian, Iranian, Iraqi, Haitian, Eretrian, Ethiopian, Philippino, Burmese, Bhutanese, Nepalese, Indian, Congolese, Kenyan, Ugandan, Sudanese...you name it, I have had their food.
There is not much that I will not eat.
Except...eggs.
I cannot stand eggs.
If you love psychology, you will love the reason why.
Concentration camps.
Growing up in the French public schools a huge emphasis was placed on the World Wars.
Beginning in first grade, field trips are planned to visit these concentration camps.
As you increase in grades, you receive the priviledge of touring more rooms.
Fifth grade was the year I was able to see the torture chamber.
Before going I ate...eggs.
The torture chamber was unbearable to see.
I threw up.
I usually do not.
I am the type of girl that could eat five hamburgers and ride a roller coaster with no problem.
Not this day.
I remember it vividly.
The mental images of this day, I associate with eggs.
There is a fun fact about me.