I stopped buying myself the worst version of everything

Dear Delyara, I don’t mean luxury. I mean insult. The bra that hurt. The shoes that pinched. The shampoo I hated. The lunch I skipped. The coat that wasn’t warm enough. The appointment I delayed because everyone else’s needs had a louder claim on the budget and the day. I realised, slowly and then all at once, that I had made my own comfort the first thing I cut so often it had started looking like common sense. I am tired of treating my own body like the easiest place to economise. So I changed small things. One by one. Nothing dramatic. The better shoes. The proper lunch. The replacement I actually needed. The appointment booked before something got worse. The softer version where it mattered. I think self-love in this phase of life is not a glamorous feeling. It is refusing to keep making your own body carry the discount of everyone else’s priorities.