We were poor while I was growing up, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know it. Mom did the best she could with a family of seven people and what she had to work with. There were several signs I didn’t pick up on.
We couldn’t afford a Christmas tree but we had a picture of a decorated tree hanging on the wall. I’m telling you we were poor. One special Christmas I received two whole gifts. That in itself was very special. I couldn’t wait to open those gifts. For a week before Christmas I would shake each of my gifts to try to figure out what was in there. When Christmas night arrived we gathered under that picture of the Christmas tree and father passed out the gifts.
Mom got the first present and it was from Dad. She carefully opened the gift and was very happy she had received perfume. Every woman’s dream perfume, almost. It was Chanel number 4. Of course father couldn’t afford Chanel number 5; I’m telling you were poor.
Finally it was my turn to open my gifts. I ripped thought the brown paper bag wrapping paper on my gifts and … oh my! I opened the first box and in it was one shoe. I hurriedly opened the second gift and in it was the other shoe. A pair of shoes for Christmas, I was in hog haven. The only thing is the shoes were almost worn out and not even my size. I’m telling you we were poor.
I remember while growing up I had to wear hand me downs. They always seem to fit okay. The only problem is the hand me downs were from my sisters. The panties felt good against my skin but I could never figure out what to put in my bras.
All the slips and hoops and camisoles really had me confused. My sisters used to help me get dressed. I now realize they didn’t have any dolls, so I was it. I used to get kidded by the other kids but what hurt more than that was trying to play stickball in pumps. I’m telling you we were poor.
I used to stand out side of the five and ten cent store and admire the people coming out of the store. I had dreams of one day shopping there myself. I’m telling you we were poor.
One Thanksgiving Mom prepared a special dinner for all seven of us. We walked in the kitchen and on the table was a beautifully prepared turkey with all the trimmings. There was a mashed potato, one cranberry for each of us, a piece of bread sliced appropriately so everyone got a wedge of bread. For a dessert one fried pie was divided evenly into seven pieces, like the piece of bread. Mom explained to us that that was not a turkey, but a squab and we would be dining like the rich people. I wasn’t sure what squab was until the next day when I went to give a bread crumb to my pet pigeon, but he was gone. I always wanted a dog but we couldn’t afford one so I named my pet pigeon Rover. I wondered why Mom kept referring to the squab as Rover. I’m telling you we were poor.
Thanksgiving is a special day for me. I give thanks for all of the good fortune that has come my way and for all of the things I have now but didn’t have growing up. I guess that’s the end of my story because my panties are beginning ride up and I need to adjust them. Some old habits are hard to break.