Breakfast and I are relative strangers

I hardly ever eat breakfast, a habit I’m convinced I picked up from my non-breakfast-eating parents despite their being divorced since I was five. If I do deign to take the most important meal of the day, meaning consuming something more than a caffeinated beverage the size of my skull, it’s almost always in situations where food could be scarce, whether as a result of time, money, or my own scarred psyche. Conventions, travelling, an empty bank account, visiting relatives. Then I cram my gul...