As I crack a free-range chicken egg on the edge, a sharp edge, of a bowl, I notice how much thicker the shell is and how brightly yellow the yolk is compared to the cheap eggs, and I think about those free-range chickens. Happy, shiny-feathered hens running around in the sun, eating sunflower seeds and sprouted grains, chatting away with other hens, until one cramps up and projects an egg hard enough to be stamped "EB" on it's unbreakable shell in red organic beet ink.
Is that all it takes for these eggs to change? Some stress-free sunshine, a run in a meadow, and a hearty organic meal? If that's true than what do you tell a woman, stuck in a cubicle all day, eating her fix of quick takeout before going back to the stress mill? How would anything she produces compare to a girl who leads an open, stress-free life of healthy diet and exercise?
I think I'm onto something, and this scares me so much that now, everyday I strive to be a free-range cage-free organically-fed woman. And I will not be broken by the blunt side of a bowl. I will stick to my Ezekiel sprouted grain bread, my daily exercise, and of course, cage-free eggs.