I ate the crust from my child’s toast and wondered how many women are still feeding themselves from leftovers

Dear Delyara, It wasn’t only about food. It rarely is. It was about the speed of the morning, the absence of my own breakfast, the way I stood there at the counter choosing the fastest available version of nourishment because sitting down properly would have required a level of time ownership I simply did not have. That crust tasted like habit. I think many women live this way for years — not starving, not neglecting themselves dramatically, just repeatedly accepting the smallest, latest, least dignified version of care because the family rhythm is structured around everyone else arriving first. The body notices even when the rest of life calls it normal.