Entitled Parents Told Me Not to Eat on the Plane Because Their Child “Might Get Upset”. I Didn’t Back Down

I never imagined that eating a simple protein bar on a flight could turn into a full-blown standoff. But when faced with a pair of overbearing parents who insisted I sacrifice my health to avoid upsetting their pampered son, I decided I wasn’t going to let it slide. What happened next left more than a few passengers stunned.

I’m Elizabeth—a traveling marketing consultant who practically lives out of a suitcase. My job takes me all across the country. In the past year alone, I’ve helped revamp branding strategies in over a dozen cities. Early flights, red-eyes, and airport coffee are just part of the lifestyle.

“On the move again?” my mom teases during our regular check-ins. “You must have wings by now.”

And she’s not wrong. The perks are great—airline points, hotel rewards, and a career I genuinely love.

The only real complication? Type 1 diabetes.

Diagnosed at twelve, it’s something I’ve learned to manage with discipline and routine. I rely on insulin, monitor my glucose levels religiously, and always keep emergency snacks on hand.

My condition doesn’t define me, but it does demand attention. Skipping meals or delaying sugar intake can lead to serious consequences—hospital serious. Most people are respectful when I explain that. They understand that what looks like a light snack might actually be lifesaving for me.

Unfortunately, not everyone gets it.

Like the couple I encountered on a flight from Chicago to Seattle not long ago.

It had already been a chaotic day: up before dawn, rushing through security, barely making it to the gate in time. By the time I settled into my aisle seat, I could already feel the familiar dip in my blood sugar—slight dizziness, tingling fingers, light-headedness.

To my right was a family: mom in the middle, dad across the aisle, and their son—around nine years old—seated between them. He was decked out with high-end tech: tablet, wireless headphones, and enough attitude to fill the cabin.

“Why didn’t I get the window?” he whined as they got situated.

“The nice lady couldn’t change our seats, sweetie,” his mother replied, smoothing his hair like he was royalty inconvenienced.

He groaned and started kicking the seat in front of him. Repeatedly. No apology, no correction from the parents. I tried to ignore it. Three hours. I could survive that.

But I was losing energy fast, and I knew I needed to eat. I pulled a protein bar from my bag and quietly began to unwrap it.

That’s when the mom leaned in and said in a sharp whisper, “Could you not? Our son is very sensitive.”

I paused, stunned. Surely she wasn’t serious.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, thinking I’d misheard.

“The noise. The smell. It overwhelms him,” she replied, glancing toward her son, who was still glued to his screen and hadn’t even noticed me.

I tried to explain. “I actually need to eat for medical reasons. I have—”

“We’d really prefer if you didn’t,” she cut me off. “It’s a short flight. We’d just like to keep him calm.”

Against my better judgment, I tucked the bar away and nodded. The people-pleaser in me won out. I figured I’d wait for the in-flight service.

Forty minutes in, the cart made its way down the aisle. I could have cried with relief. My hands were trembling, my blood sugar monitor was warning me, and I was fading fast.

When the flight attendant reached our row, I smiled weakly. “Can I get a Coke and the protein box, please?”

Before I even finished, the dad across the aisle leaned in: “No food or drinks for this row, thanks.”

The flight attendant paused. “Excuse me?”

“Our son has a sensitivity,” he said flatly. “He can’t tolerate people eating near him.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. Was this really happening?

I opened my mouth to speak, but the mom jumped in again. “It’s just a couple of hours. I’m sure you can hold off.”

As the cart started to move on, I hit the call button, fed up. My CGM was sounding alarms, and I was shaking.

The father leaned over again, clearly annoyed. “Could you not make a scene? Just be a little considerate. Our son has real needs.”

Before I could respond, the mother addressed the returning flight attendant. “She’ll pass. Trust me. Our son really doesn’t do well with triggers. You don’t want to deal with a meltdown.”

That was it.

I turned to the flight attendant and, loud enough for nearby rows to hear, said clearly:
“I have Type 1 Diabetes. If I don’t eat something now, I could pass out mid-flight. So yes—I will be eating.”

The air seemed to still.

Several passengers turned to look. A woman across the aisle gave the parents a horrified glance.

The flight attendant’s expression shifted instantly. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll bring it right away.”

“I swear, people think they’re so special,” the mom muttered. “My son has sensory issues. That’s called empathy.”

I pointed to the boy—headphones on, munching on candy from a plastic bag. “He’s eating Skittles and hasn’t looked up once. What he needs is parenting, not control of the whole row.”

The attendant handed me the snack box and soda, and I tore into them gratefully, my hands still shaking.

“Honestly, it’s not that hard,” I added with a tight smile. “You manage your child. I’ll manage my health.”

The food helped immediately. My numbers stabilized, the dizziness passed, and for the first time that day, I could think straight.

About five minutes later, as I opened my laptop to get some work done, the mom leaned over again.

“I’d really appreciate the chance to educate you about my son’s condition,” she said with a strained smile.

I didn’t miss a beat.
“Lady,” I said evenly, “I don’t need the lecture. I’ll take care of my diabetes, and you take care of your son. If you don’t want to deal with people eating around him, book an entire row—or charter a plane.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

The final stretch of the flight passed in silence. Their son never looked up from his screen. And they didn’t say another word to me.

That day reminded me of something important: advocating for your own health isn’t rude—it’s essential.

You never owe anyone an apology for taking care of yourself. Especially not at 30,000 feet.

In 2022, Sophie Martin and her partner, 28-year-old Julien Morel, welcomed their son, Lucas, into the world. 👶 This little miracle was born with a distinctive mark—a port-wine stain on his face near his eye—that symbolized both love and challenges ahead. Doctors soon diagnosed Lucas with rare conditions: Sturge-Weber syndrome and glaucoma, which posed serious risks to his neurological health and vision. ⚠️

At 34, Sophie, a young and determined mother, and Julien felt the urgent need to act to protect their son’s future. The red birthmark on Lucas’s face was becoming more pronounced over time, potentially leading to serious skin complications. Sophie decided to start laser treatment early, knowing that any delay could worsen the situation. 💉

However, this decision sparked strong reactions online. 🌐 Some accused Sophie of caring more about cosmetic appearance than her son’s well-being. “She just wants her son to look pretty,” critics wrote. These harsh words pained Sophie’s heart, but she remained steadfast. She knew only a mother could truly understand what’s best for her child. ❤️

“I’m not treating my son to make him beautiful,” Sophie explained honestly, “The laser therapy helps prevent further skin problems that could seriously affect his health. My choice is motivated solely by love and his well-being. He is beautiful just as he is, and I protect him.” ✨

Lucas’s treatment continued over several years. They attended over 20 medical consultations with various specialists and underwent many tests. 🏥 The journey included two surgeries and two laser sessions. During the hardest moments, when the road seemed impossible, Sophie inspired hope, and Julien provided strong support. 💪

For Sophie, Lucas’s health and happiness are paramount. She never allowed others’ opinions to influence her family decisions. She believes every child is unique and has potential that must be protected. Love and perseverance became the foundation of their family’s strength. 🌈

This journey taught them not only to face difficulties but also to embrace human kindness and understand that every parent deserves respect for their relentless efforts to do the best for their children. 🤝

With her story, Sophie Martin became an example of how to stand firm in one’s values, sometimes against public opinion, and not let negativity disrupt family happiness. Their little Lucas, despite challenges, keeps smiling and fills his mother and father with joy. 😊

Sophie knows the future is uncertain, but she is ready for any hardship, because within her love lies a power that can overcome even the darkest fears. ❤️ That love, human kindness, and the devoted family Sophie and Julien built are the truest expressions of real beauty—not just external, but of the soul. 🌟

Today, they share their story to encourage everyone not to fear fighting for their loved ones, to trust their instincts, and to live with hope, because every difficulty can transform into beautiful examples of love and humanity. 🌻

Lucas’s story is not just about one child’s struggle, but about love, faith, and human strength that remind us all: every child is beautiful in their uniqueness, and a mother’s love is invincible. 💖

If there is one thing in life that will make you question your dignity, your decision-making skills, and possibly the laws of physics, it’s a cheap lawnmower on a hot Saturday morning.

I know this now. I didn’t know it last summer when my neighbor, Gary, waved a hand over the chain-link fence and said, “You can borrow mine if you want.”

Gary, bless him, is a man who believes all problems can be solved with duct tape and a can-do attitude. He owns a lawnmower that looks like it fought in two world wars and lost both. I should have politely declined, maybe pretended I was allergic to freshly cut grass, but instead I grinned like an idiot and said, “Thanks, Gary. That’ll save me a trip to the hardware store.”

Big mistake.

Chapter 1: The Early Morning Optimism

The day started well enough. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, and I had a mug of coffee so strong it could have powered the lawnmower without gasoline.

I wheeled Gary’s lawnmower out of his garage. The paint was mostly gone, replaced by rust patterns that looked like a treasure map. The pull-cord had a knot in it the size of a walnut. And the gas cap… well, it was technically a peanut butter jar lid.

“Don’t overfill it!” Gary shouted from his porch, sipping his own coffee like a man watching a TV sitcom. “She gets cranky if she’s too full.”

Cranky. Right. I patted the mower like it was a horse I was about to ride into battle

Chapter 2: The First Pull

The first pull of the cord felt promising — until it stopped halfway and yanked my shoulder like I’d just been challenged to an arm-wrestling match by an angry bear.

The second pull made a sound I can only describe as a mechanical sneeze.

The third pull? A loud BANG followed by a puff of smoke that smelled like regret and old socks.

“Keep going! She’ll catch!” Gary yelled, now leaning over the fence for a better view. I kept pulling until my arm went numb, and finally, with a cough and a rattle, the beast came alive.

Chapter 3: The Noise That Shook the Block

It wasn’t so much a lawnmower as it was a portable earthquake generator. The engine roared loud enough to scare three pigeons off my roof and probably register on the Richter scale.

As I started forward, I realized the throttle was more of a “suggestion” than a control. The mower surged ahead like it had been waiting years for freedom. I was basically jogging behind it, trying to look like I was in control.

That’s when Mrs. Henderson from across the street peeked out her window. She’s the neighborhood’s unofficial security guard, and she watched me like I was attempting to steal my own lawn.

Chapter 4: The Rock Incident

I was halfway through the first row when the mower hit something — a small rock, I think. The blade clanged, the mower jumped, and the rock shot out like a cannonball, narrowly missing Gary’s mailbox.

Gary didn’t even flinch. “She does that sometimes!” he called.

I nodded as if “randomly firing high-speed projectiles” was a perfectly normal lawnmower feature.

Chapter 5: The Grass Bag Disaster

Gary’s mower had a grass collection bag that was more duct tape than fabric. Ten minutes in, it decided to quit its job and detach completely, spilling grass clippings all over my shoes.

A normal person would have stopped. I, however, decided to soldier on, because I am both stubborn and an optimist — a dangerous combination.

Chapter 6: The Great Bee Rebellion

Somewhere near the back fence, I mowed over a small patch of wildflowers. This was apparently the international headquarters for Maplewood’s bee population.

A cloud of furious bees rose into the air like a buzzing storm. I tried to run, but the mower decided to slow down, as if it too wanted to see how this would play out.

I sprinted into the open garage, swatting at my head while the mower idled outside like a faithful dog. Gary was laughing so hard he had to lean on the fence for support.

Chapter 7: The Smell of Trouble

Eventually, I noticed a smell that didn’t seem right. Not grass. Not gasoline. More like… burnt toast?

I shut the mower off and bent down. The blade was smoking slightly. The peanut butter lid was rattling. And there was a mysterious puddle forming underneath.

I decided a short break was in order.

Chapter 8: Gary’s Advice

Gary wandered over.
“Everything okay?”
“Define okay,” I said.

He lifted the peanut butter lid, sniffed, and said, “Yeah, you just need more oil. Or maybe less oil. One of those.”

I stared at him. “You don’t know?”
He shrugged. “She’s unpredictable.”

Chapter 9: The Final Push

Against all better judgment, I started it again. The mower now made a noise like a helicopter landing in a scrapyard, but it was moving.

I was almost done when the handle started wobbling like it was trying to detach itself. I gripped tighter. It wobbled harder. And then — SNAP! — the left side of the handle came loose completely.

At this point, I was steering the mower with one hand while trying not to mow my own feet off.

Chapter 10: The Dramatic Ending

With the last strip of grass finally cut, I shut the mower off. It sputtered, wheezed, and released one final puff of smoke, like it was sighing in relief.

Gary clapped. Mrs. Henderson clapped. Even the bees seemed satisfied.

Epilogue: Lessons Learned
I learned three things that day:

Never borrow a lawnmower from a man who uses a peanut butter lid as a gas cap.
Bees do not appreciate surprise landscaping.
My dignity is worth more than free lawn care.

One ordinary night, our dog sneaked into the bedroom, placed his paws on my sleeping wife, and then started barking.

We were shocked to understand the reason for his behavior!

Everything seemed calm. My wife and I were sleeping peacefully under our covers, while our six-year-old son and one-year-old daughter had long since slept in their rooms. There was no sign of any disturbance.

Around 3:00 a.m., our Labrador, Semi, a faithful companion for eight years, suddenly burst into the bedroom.

Semi, intelligent and affectionate, was an integral part of our family. He had always behaved himself, never a problem. But that night, something was wrong.

Without hesitation, he approached the bed, placed his paws on my wife’s chest, and then began to bark softly.

This unusual behavior immediately alerted me. We’d always forbidden him from getting on the bed, and he respected that rule.

But this time, his attitude was different, almost disturbing. My heart raced when I woke up and saw him leaning over her, in the darkness.

A moment of panic crossed my mind: what was going on? Then, suddenly, the truth dawned on me, and I dialed 911 without missing a beat.

A subtle creak echoed in the hallway, barely audible… And then I understood: it wasn’t Semi who was the problem, but a much more real danger.

Our Labrador had positioned himself between our bed and the door, as if sensing the threat about to arise.

Without a word, I woke my wife, signaling her to remain silent. Tiptoeing to the door, I heard a faint noise—someone furtively sliding across the wooden floor.

Quickly, I grabbed my phone and called the police. While they waited for them to arrive, we took refuge in the bathroom with the children, while Semi remained on guard at the door, vigilant and ready.

Seven minutes… An eternity in those moments. Then, a loud voice was heard from outside:

“Police! Stay put!”

Two burglars were intercepted in our house. They had entered through the living room window, convinced they could steal our belongings undisturbed. But they had underestimated one crucial element: our dog.

Semi proved to be our true hero. Without him, no one knows what might have happened. To thank him, we gave him a huge bone and a warm blanket. Since that day, he’s been sleeping right outside our door. And there’s no need to argue anymore.

He has become our faithful guardian, forever.

Everyone doesn’t enjoy flying the same way. Before going on a trip, some people make sure they do things to avoid being uncomfortable. Some people are aware of the same thing, though.

This woman planned her trip so that she had everything she needed. Other people, though, didn’t see it that way…

A woman was in a very awkward situation, both physically and figuratively. She wasn’t sure whether to put her own happiness or what other people thought of her first. This woman had to make a choice: she could be kind or protect her own place.

She was going across the country to be with her family for Christmas. She knew she had to be comfortable when she flew. Because she is so big, she always books an extra seat on a plane. In order to make herself feel better, she pays extra.

It was easy to check in, and she was quickly through security and on the plane. The unpleasant thing didn’t start until she was sitting in her place. Next to her was a woman with her 18-month-old child. She noticed that there was an open seat and asked the woman to quickly squeeze into it so that her baby could use the other one. But she said no because the first person had paid for both places.

A flight attendant saw that the exchange was getting attention and came over to see what was going on. The flight attendant was told what was going on and asked the woman if she could make room for the child. The woman kindly said no and said again that she had paid in full for both seats.

Thankfully, the flight attendant got it and told the mom to hold her kid in her lap, which is what most kids that age do. But the mother made sure to make the woman feel bad the whole trip by giving her mean looks and making passive-aggressive comments.

After the event, the woman thought about whether she had been unfair and should have given up her extra spot. She went on Reddit and asked the people there if she was wrong.

One person, a mother who had been in a similar position, wrote, “I’ve taken 9-hour flights with an infant in my arms and shorter flights with a toddler in my lap, who was capable of sitting in his own seat and very much did not want me to hold him. Did it suck? Yes. But it was my problem alone, and as long as my child was under 24 months and I didn’t have to pay for his seat, I chose to hold him. I swear, not all of us parents are this entitled!”

Another person added, “She’s wrong for not buying a seat for her son and assuming someone else would give up a seat they paid for. Odds are she was hoping there’d be extra seats on the flight so she didn’t have to pay and used the lap thing as a loophole.”

Other angry Redditors wrote, “I’d go so far as making a complaint to the airline about their employee supporting another passenger harassing you.”

Another angry user said, “You should always do what you can to be as healthy as you can, but being fat isn’t a character flaw or a moral failing. We all have our own challenges in life, and you deserve not to be ashamed of your body and yourself, even if you aren’t currently meeting your goals. If the mom wants an extra seat for her kids, she should have purchased one. She’s not entitled to a seat you purchased, and you don’t need to feel bad for her bad behavior.”

While, some people might also understand why the mother would want to have a comfortable trip. She would have made sure to get a place for her child first, though, if that was important to her.

In this case, who do you think is right? Let us know in the comments and SHARE this article with Family and Friends!

For a multitude of reasons, many of us experience difficulties with our weight and looks.

Despite campaigns encouraging us to accept ourselves regardless of our size and the use of more realistic-looking models in advertising, eating disorders affect a large number of people worldwide on a daily basis.

In an effort to support those struggling with eating disorders, one woman is sharing her tale.

Annie Windley is an Englishwoman from Derbyshire. After years of malnourishment, she is now in recovery and wants to use her story to encourage others who may be in a similar situation.

Windley’s greatest weight was never more than 29 kg, or around 63 pounds. Her low weight increased her likelihood of having a heart attack and caused a host of other medical issues.

The 21-year-old still struggles with her eating condition five years later. The Woolley Moor resident received numerous hospital stays and medical procedures while in pain.

The young woman claims that she was able to start her recovery process by using her love of running, though. She even finished last October’s Chesterfield Half Marathon.

In one of her social media posts, she said, “I came to the delightful realization that rehabilitation is a breathtaking process that should be thrilling, unforgettable, and amazing. I believe that my anorexia will always be a part of me, but I’ve learned to control it and stop thinking about food.”

“Changing for the better is never too late,” asserts Windley.

Annie was diagnosed in 2012, and she started her recovery process two years later. She ultimately made the decision to combat her eating condition in October 2017.

“I can’t say exactly what occurred, but this time, it was just for myself,” she said online.

“The battle was amazing; every day was filled with agonizing emotions and remarkable bravery.”

“I am now the heaviest I have been since 2014, having gained three stone in the last four months.”

She has learned from her experiences that the way people treat themselves and other people counts more than anything else, even how they look.

“These are the things that will make you happy and are things that are crucial to you,” she said.

She was really salvaged by concentrating on her love of running and showing respect for others. Her perspective completely shifted when she directed the energy she had previously used to limit her food intake into something that felt like success.

“Pay attention to your desire to succeed and your excitement for where you want to go.”

Annie used to frequently feel dizzy or faint because she was so ill and underweight from eating nearly nothing except a piece of bread most days. She is currently shifting to a healthier weight and adopting a more positive outlook on her body image.

“We must show our disorders that we are able to do so. We don’t want to spend our lives feeling unhappy and full of regret over the things we weren’t able to do due to anorexia.”

In the long, intricate history of the British monarchy, titles are more than words — they are symbols of power, legacy, and belonging. To grant one is to bestow a place in the story of the realm; to strip one away is to cast a shadow over a name. Which is why King Charles’s reported decision to give his younger son, Prince Harry, a new royal title has ignited both celebration and fury across Britain.

It was a move few saw coming — a turn in the royal narrative that has left courtiers whispering, the public debating, and at least one member of the family reportedly fuming.

A Father and a Son, Estranged
Since stepping back from royal duties in 2020, Harry’s relationship with the royal family has been, at best, strained. His candid interviews, revealing memoir, and public critiques of palace life have deepened rifts that once seemed unthinkable. The once-close bond with his father frayed under the weight of personal grievances and public spectacle.

And yet, even through the tension, King Charles has never ceased to call Harry his son. This new title, bestowed after years of icy distance, is more than ceremonial — it is a gesture heavy with meaning.

The Weight of a Title
In royal tradition, titles are not just honorary. They carry duties, expectations, and the symbolism of centuries. For Harry, receiving a new title from his father is a powerful acknowledgment: that no matter how far he has strayed from the royal fold, he remains part of its fabric.

The announcement, according to insiders, was made in the gilded walls of a private palace chamber. Harry, in attendance, was said to be visibly moved — smiling broadly, his trademark mix of charm and boyish energy on full display.

Outside the palace gates, reactions were immediate. Supporters hailed it as a step toward reconciliation. Critics questioned whether such a gesture undermined the monarchy’s insistence on duty and discretion.

One Royal, Reportedly Fuming
But not everyone welcomed the news. Rumors swirl that one senior royal — whose own standing has been carefully cultivated over the years — was less than pleased. In the delicate hierarchy of the House of Windsor, every shift in title, every public acknowledgment, alters the balance of attention and influence.

For some, Harry’s return to the royal stage, even symbolically, reopens old wounds. For others, it is a reminder that the King’s favor is as much an act of the heart as it is of protocol.

A Gesture of Reconciliation — or a Strategic Move?
The question that lingers is whether this is an olive branch or a calculated act. King Charles has long understood that the monarchy’s survival depends on unity — or at least the appearance of it. By bringing Harry back into the royal narrative, even partially, he may be attempting to heal the rift not just within the family, but in the public eye.

For the King, whose reign is still in its early years, reconciliation with Harry could be part of securing his legacy — showing that the crown can be both steadfast and forgiving.

Public Reaction: A Nation Divided
Across Britain — and beyond — the reaction has been split. Those who have followed Harry’s journey with empathy see this as a touching father-son moment, proof that blood ties can withstand even the fiercest of storms. Others view it with skepticism, wondering if the gesture rewards disloyalty and risks undermining the example of unwavering service set by other senior royals.

Social media lit up within minutes of the news breaking. Supporters posted images of Harry as a young officer, his medals gleaming, his service to crown and country unquestionable. Critics countered with headlines from his more controversial interviews, questioning whether he had earned such an honor.

Harry’s Next Chapter
What this title will mean for Harry’s future remains to be seen. Will it bring him closer to the heart of royal life, or simply serve as a ceremonial link — a symbolic bridge between two worlds he straddles?

Those close to him say he remains committed to his independent life in the United States, with Meghan and their children. Yet the pull of heritage is strong, and the threads of monarchy — once woven into one’s identity — are not easily unraveled.

A Moment Etched in History
Whether this was a reconciliation in the making or a brief pause in the ongoing family drama, one thing is certain: this moment will be remembered. The image of King Charles extending such an honor to his younger son, against the backdrop of years of division, is one for the royal chronicles.

For Harry, it may be the beginning of a slow, cautious return to the fold. For Charles, it is a public declaration — that in the heart of a father, the bonds of family still matter, even in the face of tradition, duty, and all the complexities of the crown.

And for the rest of us, it is a reminder that even in the most storied of families, reconciliation is never simple, titles carry more than pomp, and sometimes, the most powerful gesture is the one no one expected.

When Zach texted me from school saying, “Can you come get me? It’s serious,” I never imagined this.

He barely looked at me when he got in the car. Hands shaking. Hoodie half zipped like he’d rushed out of class. I tried to joke, ease the tension—asked if he’d failed a test or punched someone. He just said, “It’s not about me. It’s about her.”

That’s how I found out.

The baby wasn’t his girlfriend’s anymore. She’d walked away—literally, left the hospital discharge papers unsigned. And Zach? My video-game-addicted, awkward, still-learning-to-shave son—he signed them instead.

He looked me in the eye that night and said, “If no one wants her, I do.”

At first, I thought it was a joke. I mean, Zach was 15. He could barely take care of himself, let alone a baby. His idea of responsibility was taking out the trash every few days and remembering to charge his phone. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I chose to stay calm and asked him to explain.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, rubbing his face. “But I can’t just leave her there, Mom. I’m the only one who’ll look after her. I don’t want her to grow up alone.”

That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t a joke. My son, who I still saw as a kid, had just made one of the most adult decisions of his life. And he was determined to follow through. The world was already difficult enough for him as it was—so why was he taking on something like this?

The next few days were a blur. We got in touch with social services, and they tried to explain that this wasn’t something Zach could just handle on his own. But every time they offered a solution, Zach was firm in his response.

He wanted to keep the baby. He was ready, he said. At first, I thought he was just trying to prove something—to himself, to me, maybe even to his friends. But no matter what I said or did, he wouldn’t back down. He was serious about this.

So, we ended up in the living room one evening, staring at a newborn girl in a pink bassinet. She was small, fragile, and completely dependent on someone. And I had no idea how we were going to handle it.

“Mom,” Zach said one night as he rocked her gently to sleep, “I just don’t want her to feel abandoned. I know what it feels like, you know?”

I didn’t understand at first. What did he mean, “he knew what it felt like”? But when I looked at his face, I realized that it wasn’t just about this baby—it was about him.

He had always been quiet about his feelings, the way he’d closed himself off when things weren’t going well, the way he’d retreat into his video games whenever we had problems at home. He’d never really talked to me about his own vulnerabilities. And now, here he was, opening up in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“I’m here for you,” I said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure this out together.”

But I couldn’t deny the overwhelming panic I felt. Zach was too young for this, too immature. He didn’t know what he was getting into. How could he? I didn’t know either, but I had no choice but to go along with it. If he was determined to care for her, I had to be there for him, no matter how terrified I was.

The first few months were a whirlwind. Zach was up late every night, trying to figure out how to feed, change, and soothe a baby. There were sleepless nights for both of us. There were moments of frustration when nothing seemed to work, when the baby wouldn’t stop crying, or when Zach would retreat into himself, overwhelmed by the responsibility.

I felt a sense of guilt for not being able to do more, for not stepping in and taking control like I had in the past. But Zach needed to feel like he was in charge of his own life, even if he wasn’t ready. And as much as it hurt, I had to step back and let him grow up, even if it meant seeing him struggle.

The turning point came one afternoon when Zach came to me, his eyes red from lack of sleep. “I don’t think I can do this, Mom,” he said, his voice breaking. “She deserves better. I’m not enough for her.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I didn’t know what to say, how to reassure him. I had always believed in his strength, but I saw now that he was human, just like the rest of us. He didn’t have all the answers. And it was okay to admit that. I didn’t know how I was going to help him, but I did know one thing: he needed me now more than ever.

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart,” I said gently, “but it doesn’t mean you’re failing her. It just means you’re realizing that this is a big responsibility, and that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help. We’ll figure this out, together.”

Zach sniffled, wiping his nose. “I feel like I’m letting her down.”

“You’re not letting her down. You’re learning. We all are. And if we need help, we’ll get it. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

And so, we did. We reached out to family members, we found a support group for teen parents, and we connected with social services again, this time with more support in place. Slowly but surely, things started to settle. Zach found a routine. It wasn’t easy, but he learned to care for the baby and, in a way, care for himself too.

Months passed, and life, though complicated, began to feel a little more stable. Then came a twist I didn’t see coming—Zach’s girlfriend came back into the picture. She had left the baby at the hospital, but after some time away, she realized she couldn’t just abandon her daughter.

She wanted to be part of her life, to co-parent, and together they began to rebuild their relationship. I could see that Zach was still unsure, still scared, but he was slowly accepting that he didn’t have to do this alone. They weren’t just parents—they were partners in this.

The karmic twist came when, after all that struggle, Zach started showing signs of growth that I never expected. I had been so focused on the fear of him failing, of him being too young, too immature, to handle the pressure.

But in reality, he was learning what it truly meant to be a father. Not in the traditional sense, not in a perfect sense, but in a human sense.

Zach wasn’t just looking after the baby—he was learning about responsibility, patience, and sacrifice. And as a mother, I saw him evolve before my eyes. The same son who once couldn’t sit still for five minutes without a screen in front of him was now sitting with his daughter, reading her books and teaching her to play. It was beautiful, but it was also humbling. Because, in the end, it wasn’t about me teaching him—it was about him teaching me.

Sometimes, we fear the unknown, we fear our children’s mistakes or the paths they choose. But in Zach’s case, he showed me something incredible—that growth doesn’t come from being perfect, it comes from being willing to learn and to adapt, no matter how challenging the circumstances.

The lesson here? Life doesn’t always unfold as we expect, and sometimes our fears about our children’s future are rooted in our own doubts. But when we support them, when we trust in their ability to learn from their mistakes, we might just find that they’re stronger than we thought.

I’m proud of Zach. I’m proud of both of them—the mother and the father they’ve become, in their own ways. And I know that together, they’ll navigate whatever comes next.

If this story resonated with you, share it with someone who might need to hear it. Sometimes, the hardest moments bring the greatest lessons.

When we talk about orgasms, we’re covering a wide range of conversations. Not only are there multiple different types of orgasms you can experience, but orgasms also manifest differently for everyone. They may feel different, come through different sensations, last for different durations and otherwise affect us in all kinds of different ways. In fact, they may even derive from different pleasure points.


There’s a plethora of possible orgasms a person may be able to achieve, if that’s their intention. It’s important to note, however, that though a variety of orgasms exist, they’re neither feasible for nor necessarily appealing to all people — and that’s OK. Here, we’ll be focusing on orgasms for people who have a vagina and clitoris. (We at SheKnows know that not everyone with a vagina and clitoris is a woman; for the purpose of this article, some of the experts and studies we reference refer to these people as women.)


“If you don’t have certain types of orgasms, it doesn’t make you less capable of pleasure, and it doesn’t make you less of a woman,” certified sex and relationships psychotherapist and sex educator Gigi Engle tells SheKnows. “People experience pleasure and sexuality in such a variety and myriad of ways; whatever brings you pleasure is the most valid. It’s just important to have information so you have the tools you want or need for however you choose to explore your own sexuality… Because let’s be clear: Your body is amazing.”

Engle adds that putting pressure on yourself to achieve orgasm may actually have the opposite effect. Your narrative should focus on experiencing sexual pleasure in and of itself as opposed to reaching orgasm, which she calls a “happy byproduct,” not the end-all be-all of sex and intimacy.

Regardless of how you choose to explore your sexuality, Engle reiterates a common misconception that achieving orgasm denotes the culmination of a sexual experience — that the goal of sex is always to orgasm and, if it doesn’t happen, the sexual experience was incomplete or invalid or that you or your partner didn’t perform well. “Sex should be about bringing your partner pleasure, bringing yourself pleasure and enjoying that intimate experience as opposed to seeing it as goal-oriented,” she explains.

Certified sexologist Barbara Carrellas adds that if you do want more or different orgasms, you should practice alone first so you can figure out what you like and effectively communicate with your partner.

“Your partner is not responsible for your orgasms,” she tells SheKnows. “The better you know your body, the more you’ll be able to bring yourself to orgasm with their help… Just don’t try so hard. Release your expectations about what an orgasm is ‘supposed’ to be like. Release your assumptions about how an orgasm happens.” Instead, she says, keep it super simple. “If it feels good, do it; if it doesn’t feel good, stop,” Carrellas explains. ” If it works for you, do it; if it doesn’t, try something else. There is no ‘normal.’ Everything is ‘normal.’”

And most of all, remember that these are only possibilities to explore if you’re curious and comfortable. To each their own, always. But if you are looking to experiment, here are six lesser-known types of orgasm you may consider taking a crack at.

Anal Orgasm
More and more women are giving anal sex a go — and quite liking it. In 2009, the National Survey of Sex and Behavior found that 94 percent of women studied had reached orgasm from anal sex — a higher rate of orgasm than the women who had vaginal intercourse or received oral sex. So, what it is about anal sex?

Though the anatomy of the clitoris is still largely debated, Engle says that in people with a clitoris, all orgasms, regardless of how they manifest, are clitoral — even orgasms that occur from anal penetration. The clitoris, she says, is the epicenter of all female pleasure.

“There are some women — it doesn’t work for everybody — who have orgasms through anal sex; they’re able to reach the interior walls of the clitoris through the anus,” Engle explains.

The anal canal itself is rich in nerve endings, but the rectum, which sits just past the canal, shares a thin wall with the vaginal canal, she notes. This means that the G-spot, the internal apex of the clitoris, can be reached indirectly — through the backdoor, if you will — through the anus.

“The G-spot is actually the back of the clitoris. You’re just reaching it internally where the internal clitoris is — and it’s not a spot, per se, but it’s actually an area; it’s the area around the urethral sponge and urethral canal that connects to the back of the clitoris,” Engle adds. “So when you have a G-spot orgasm, it’s also a clitoral-based orgasm.”

The clitoris boasts some 8,000 nerve fibers. While studies have found that nearly 37 percent of American women require external clitoral stimulation to experience orgasm, there truly is no “normal” when it comes to sex. So, yes, some women can orgasm from any sort of stimulation, including indirect internal stimulation via anal sex.

Energy Orgasm
What happens during an energy orgasm is unique. An energy orgasm releases accumulated tension in both the body and mind and sometimes connects to the spirit according to Carrellas. Carrellas coaches individuals and groups in tantra workshops that cover conscious sexuality. She’s also authored three books on the subject.

“An energy orgasm is the kind of orgasm we experience when we suddenly release stored-up tension and energy,” she says. “In many ways, it’s similar to the physical volcanic orgasm [characterized by a quick buildup, a rapid release, and a cool-down] with a major exception — it does not feel as localized. It is still a genital orgasm, but afterward, you feel as though the tension has been drained out of your arms and legs. Your hands and fingers may tingle. Your chest feels more open, and you can breathe more easily and deeply. The relaxation is profound and satisfying.”

That said, while orgasms are seldom observed outside the realm of sexual activity, an energy orgasm is limited to neither sex nor any kind of physical stimulation. Rather, an energy orgasm will flow out to the “limits of your body and beyond,” Carrellas says.

“You may feel boundary-less, as if you can’t tell where you end and everything else begins,” she explains. “You may feel as if you are in a sort of alternate universe where everything is beautiful, quiet and peacefully connected. Your orgasm is happening everywhere and nowhere, and it may go on and on. Afterward, you may feel energized or you may feel peaceful and blissed-out.”

It’s also possible to have an energy orgasm through the act of giving of pleasure, Engle says. “I’ve worked with women in the past who can have an orgasm simply from giving a blow job, either through the sheer erotic energy of giving a partner who they love that kind of pleasure or giving a blow job while grinding against one of their legs, which can stimulate the clitoris and, because it’s such an erotic experience, orgasm,” she notes.

In fact, Corey Folsom, a certified tantric educator at the Source School of Tantra Yoga, says that energy is a more effective facilitator of orgasm than friction.

“We are learning to have energy sex in combination with friction sex,” he tells SheKnows.

On top of Engle’s example of an energy-friction combo, Folsom calls out a “heart orgasm” in particular, which he says can be initiated from a pure energy exchange between partners (read: eye-gazing).

Emotional Orgasm
Again, orgasms aren’t necessarily inherently sexual. “Emotion-gasms,” as Carrellas calls them, elicit the same buildup of energy — a combination of breath, movement, sound and muscular contractions — followed by a release. It may or may not be an erotic emotion.

“Emotion-gasms are ‘total’ experiences; you allow your body to express its emotions without trying to stifle them,” she says.

Have you ever laughed so hard you thought you might actually die of laughter? Carrellas explains that in that instance, your diaphragm spasmed, and you could barely get a breath. When you finally did get a big breath and you eventually stopped laughing, she says the feeling could be similar to that of an orgasm.

How about cry-gasms? According to Carrellas, this can describe that feeling of release and relief after a good cry. Or anger-gasms? Have you ever let yourself release years of rage in one long rage-gasm? “The physiological ingredients of an emotion-gasm are the same as a genital orgasm,” she explains.

Emotion-gasms don’t depend on any particular emotion, Carrellas adds. To reach an emotion-gasm requires a degree on concentration, however. And that concentration can be centered on nonsexual feelings or eroticism alike.

Nipple Orgasm
Nipples are well-known erogenous zones, but the fact that women may have the ability to reach orgasm through intentional nipple stimulation isn’t such common knowledge. A wealth of research dating back to the early ’50s, including a 2011 study in the journal Sexual and Relationship Therapy, suggests that nipple stimulation can indeed lead to orgasm.

“A nipple orgasm takes a lot of trust with your partner and a lot of patience and empathy because it can be a very emotionally intense and kind of nerve-wracking way to have an orgasm,” Engle says. “Women already have enough pressure on themselves as it is to have an orgasm. So if you’re trying to have one in an unusual way, it may not work for you unless you’re with someone you trust and have that intimacy.”

So how can a nipple orgasm happen? The body’s biggest sex organ is the brain, Engle explains, and all nerve endings, both from the nipples and the genitals, connect in the brain.

“Your nipples, especially, because they’re a specific erogenous zone, have a direct nerve ending that connects to the clitoral network,” Engle explains. “When you stimulate the nipples, you’re sending these connections to the clitoris.”

Essentially, sensory activity from the breasts projects to the same neurons that receive sensory activity from the genitals, and these neurons produce and secrete oxytocin the same way, according to a 2011 article published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine.

“No matter where in the body an orgasm may be triggered, all orgasms ultimately happen in the brain, and in different areas of the brain,” Carrellas adds. “Neurologically, orgasm seems much like meditation in that the areas of the brain that are activated depend in part upon what kind of stimulus brought us to the state of meditation or orgasm.”

Folsom adds that adopting a meditative — or rather, tantric — attitude can actually help you feel arousal on deeper levels.

“When we tune up our bodies and the practice of attention, we can have more varied orgasms — these include waves of pleasure that emanate from nipples, heart, G-spot…” he says. “The feeling in any of these pleasure centers can be transmuted into the crown chakra, resulting in a ‘pleasure wash’ in your brain. This replicates the pleasure that what we usually associate with our genitals inside our head.”

Zone Orgasm
Contrary to popular belief, genital stimulation isn’t necessary for some people to achieve orgasm. Research from 2011 calls a nongenital orgasm a “zone orgasm,” which the researchers had described as an orgasm that “occurs when a sensitive spot or zone on the body of a person not usually used for erotic stimulation is stimulated to a peak.”

Of the 216 people surveyed in the study, published in the journal Sexual and Relationship Therapy, 31 women said they’d had a zone orgasm, many of them experiencing this through stimulation of the neck, earlobes, underarms, hips, thighs, toes, and fingers. In fact, some women reported to have reached orgasm from kissing alone.

“The backs of the knees are a really great place, and the inner thighs are a great place to start,” Engle says of erogenous zones. “The back of the neck, under the ears, even the scalp can actually be an incredible erogenous zone. Starting with a sensual head scratch can waken up sexual desire inside of you and get the juices flowing.”

But your entire epidermis, all of your skin, can be an erogenous zone if you want it to be, she explains. The mind is a powerful tool.

“I think people focus too much on finding these magical erogenous zones when, really, anything can be an erogenous zone if you want it to be and if you believe it enough,” Engle says.

Engle isn’t the first to suggest that thinking erotically can manifest erotic experiences, either. Rutgers University’s Nan Wise, a cognitive neuroscientist, has investigated brain activity during imagined genital stimulation, for example, and his research suggests that women can actually activate the same regions of the brain that are active during physical stimulation by merely imagining stimulation. Perhaps that’s why some women have reported psychic orgasms (orgasms that occur during dreaming).

In other words, women may be able to “think off,” which means wanting and believing an experience to be sexually satisfying could really yield sexual results. Truly a mind over matter situation.

Coregasm
Exercise gets the heart rate pumping, the blood rushing, the muscles contracting and the breath intensifying. That sounds a lot like an orgasm, which might contribute to the fact that some women are actually having orgasms while doing working out. A 2012 study published in Sexual and Relationship Therapy found that exercise can bring on orgasms — these are oft referred to as “coregasms” because, typically, abdominal exercise is what induces them.

The researchers administered an online survey to 124 women who had reported experiencing exercise-induced orgasms and 246 women who’d experienced exercise-induced sexual pleasure. They found that, of the women surveyed (ages 18 to 63), about 40 percent of women who had experienced exercise-induced orgasms and exercise-induced sexual pleasure had done so on more than 10 occasions. Most of them (51.4 percent) reported experiencing an orgasm in connection with abdominal exercises within the previous 90 days. That said, the phenomenon also happened during a wide variety of different exercises, such as weight lifting (26.5 percent), yoga (20 percent), bicycling (15.8 percent), running (13.2 percent), and walking/hiking (9.6 percent).

While the reasons behind exercise-induced orgasms are still being studied, their intensity (like all orgasms) may waver with the breath. As you’ve probably learned by this point, breath is a potent tool in sex, one that can deepen any pleasurable experience.

“Any type of orgasm sensation can be heightened and extended in time by the use of tantric breath practices,” Folsom says. “A five-second orgasm may be extended to 30 seconds, for instance.”

In partnered sex, it helps if partners have a shared priority to practice open and skilled communication in addition to the couple’s breathwork, energy, and sexual movement practices, Folsom advises.

😳 Ever opened a chicken pack and noticed strange white lines on the meat? Looked kinda scary, right? 😬🍗 You might think it’s spoiled or unsafe ⚠️😱. But don’t rush to throw it away 🛑🗑️‼️
🤔 What are those lines really, and is it safe to eat? 🧐🍴

“Yesterday, I bought chicken breast from the supermarket. When I got home and opened the package, I noticed some strange white lines on the meat. At first, I thought it might be spoiled or poor quality. But before throwing it out, I decided to message a nutritionist to find out the real reason.”

📩 Here’s what the expert replied:

— The white lines are called ‘white striping’. They appear in chickens that are raised very quickly in industrial farming conditions. This rapid growth puts strain on the muscles, causing fat to accumulate in the tissue.

— Fortunately, this kind of meat is not harmful to human health. But its nutritional value is slightly reduced — it tends to have more fat and less protein. You might also notice a difference in taste and texture: the meat can be a little less juicy and not as tender.

🧠 After receiving this explanation, the user decided to share their experience on social media:

– “Friends, if you ever come across meat like this, don’t panic. Just understand why it happens. If you’re looking for more natural and clean meat, choose products from small farms or organic sources. What we put on our plate is our own choice.”

🌿 Conclusion: White striping is not a sign of disease — it’s a result of fast-growth farming. Knowledge is your best defense against unnecessary fear.