When your exposed and everyone knows your lying. It is a reference to someone baking a cake who cannot tell that egg is on their face. Traces of egg are visible on skin and at times a person will have egg on their face and not know and may catch themselves is odd situations where they openly lie about it and not realize still be exposed.
Egg on my face, this expression can be applied to my life. And writing any it down might makes me feel really weird. I know I’m weird but writing it down makes me look a little silly. Well, all my silliness puts me in these strange positions and I deal with them the best I can.
So I just don’t like cheese; well, I don’t like most cheeses. I can’t have a cheeseburger. I don’t like cheese on my tacos, or any other Mexican dishes. Not even on my sandwiches; don’t put it on there. One of my old friends from high school would even call me anti-American because I didn’t touch the stuff. If I were going on a road trip all over the United States I would skip Wisconsin. Am I exaggerating to much? It is weird because I remember as a kid just munching on cheese sticks galore. I remember the taste I didn’t mind. It was just food. Since then or really most of my life I have never liked cheese. Or certain cheeses. I’m a hypocrite like that because I’ll eat pizza, nachos, and whatever else I can, not caring that cheese is used. No cheese on a cracker please, but I’ll eat a cheez-it.
I can’t remember the moment when deciding that cheese was not on my favorite list. Really not a good ingredient to disown because cheese can be added to almost everything. Especially because everybody usually likes cheese, even loves it. My brother would eat it straight from the fridge. Teeth marks on the block of cheese. I was always the odd kid that didn’t like it. I called it “cow juice” too gross out my cousins. People still get baffled over it because they’ll see me shoving a pizza down my throat. So depending on the situation I’ll eat cheese but sometimes as kids your not really given an option. Eat what is on the table or starve, giving that guilt trip about all these “other kids starving” or “quit being picky.”
I remember if I would have to eat cheese at someone’s house or my grandmas. I had a way of dealing with these situations because they put cheese in the squash. Squash and Cheese is like a meal cooked all over the Rez. Almost everyone likes “Squash and Cheese.” Squash boiled in a big pot of water, add some salt. Then just throw a bunch of cheese in it. Let it melt and entangle in the squash meat. And I love squash but just not squash and cheese. When it is smothered in it, then I’m not such a big fan.
I know I’m picky but I really shouldn’t complain. Funny how I thought like that as a kid but it was rude and I had to eat. So I would try my hardest to separate the two that were freshly glued ingredients. Get the cheese in one big clot and have a large cup of water ready and just swallow it. It was miserable. Squash just by itself is the best, but having it along with cheese makes me want to starve. Tell me where those starving kids are and I can give them mine. I had a tactic as a kid to deal with this dilemma. And I almost feel bad revealing it because I can’t really understand why I don’t like the taste of cheese.
I would rather have egg on my face than cheese.