“I didn’t grow up rich.”
But really, how many of us did? No matter what tax bracket you grow up in, there are ups and downs to your childhood. Kendall Jenner recently tweeted something along the lines of: “I wish it would get better”; only to have an insane amount of backlash on her. No one knows what this poor girl is going through – probably getting ignored by her parents and in dire need of a loving hug that doesn’t come from a nanny. That’s poor.
You read articles on Thought Catalog of 20-somethings whining about how they had to shop at discount stores and eat day old bread with no sandwich meat. Well guess what kids? You had day old bread to eat. I bet your parents worked really hard and taught you how to appreciate a dollar. I bet they told you they loved you and read you bedtime stories every chance that they got. That’s rich.
No matter how badly off you are; there is always someone worse off. Most people work hard to make ends meet, so turn off your HD cable box and your iPad and go outside into the world to experience real life.
One of the new Bravo shows is about mothers who could literally care less about their children and only care about the status of the play date. These poor children will grow up being spoiled rotten just to shut them up and never understand how reality works. What happens when they grow up into adults and end up not having a ton of money? They won’t understand a used car, busting your ass for dinner and what a real family meal is like.
So you grew up “poor” you helpless little twat. Reality check: you have an internet connection and you are essentially using it to brag about how much better off you are now that you had to work hard. THIS IS A HARD WORLD – we all work hard, assholes. It’s a hard lesson for anyone to learn; no matter what your “status” is.
Maybe you whining farts have friends who had parents who gave them gifts for no reason; well turn it around and ask yourself why? If I were a betting man (or girl) I would bet that you are now a pretentious Brooklyn-ite who works three jobs and blows your entire month’s wages on a stupid studio apartment and American Apparel hipster clothing; just so you can play the role of “starving artist”.
In my wildest dreams, I would package all of you up into a time machine and ship you off to the French Revolution era where people ate rotten meat and dumped their feces out of their windows. Your standards are high, higher than you can imagine.
Go to that discount supermarket and purchase that day old bread and find a homeless person and explain your situation and then let them spit in your eye.