The moment I woke up that day, I said to myself, “Merry Christmas.” On a sudden whim, I bought a carton of eggs, went to the arched walkway above the MRT plaza, laid a black plastic bag flat on the ground, stood on it, and held up a sign inviting people to throw eggs at me. I planned to stay until every egg was gone.

The question I heard most often from passersby was: “Why?” Each time, I wondered why people always seem to need a proper, respectable reason behind every action in order to feel at ease. The second most common comment was concern that I might catch a cold, because it was a winter cold snap.

Almost everyone who picked up an egg spent about thirty seconds deciding which part of my body felt safest to hit. In the end, most landed on my feet or on the ground.

Some guessed I was staging a silent protest against the recent spikes and crashes in egg prices.

Many people took photos. Some wished me Merry Christmas. A few parents encouraged their children to join in. One woman offered to hold an umbrella over me. A man passing by said to his companion, “Why would I throw an egg at a girl?”

An older woman read my sign aloud and smiled: “Merry EGGsmas? So if we throw the eggs, we’ll feel happy?” I replied, “Give it a try. Maybe you will!”

Honestly, being hit by a whole egg flying at full speed hurts a lot.

Special thanks to Charlotte and Evelyn for documentation.