Time to be honest. Did you grow up poor white trash?

You first.

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Some of the poorest outwardly trashiest people I've met ended up being the richest people at heart and soul.

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And most of the trashiest people that I know are rich

ETA: I grew up in an average family. Nothing spectacular. So I wouldn't consider it growing up poor. Most would consider me trashy though considering I grew up in Livingston Parish. That wasn't the case though. frick that stereotype

I was born on third.

The details of my life are quite inconsequential ... Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.

My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloé with webbed feet. My father would womanize; he would drink; he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon ... luge lessons ... In the spring, we'd make meat helmets ... When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe. At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Vilmer ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum — it's breathtaking ... I suggest you try it.

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I grew up poor, but I would not call my family white trash.

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This. My parents got divorced when I was 6, my younger brother was 4 and my youngest brother was 2. My mom didn't have a college degree, but somehow she managed to work multiple jobs and go to school where she ultimately got a nursing degree. She was getting government assistance (nice way to say welfare) to help pay for daycare and put food on the table. Once I was around 10, she started leaving us three at home alone during the day with me to take care of my two younger brothers. Needless to say, I grew up pretty quickly and learned out to cook Kraft Mac-N-Cheese and a sausage/rice consome quite well. I know that would be SERIOUSLY frowned upon today and she would be crucified for being a horrible mother...but she did the best she could with what she had.

Yes, we wore shoes from KMart and those blue jeans that you couldn't destroy with a flame thrower. I remember getting hair cuts at the beauty school because they were cheap. We were dirt poor for a good portion of my young childhood, but she did very well for herself and all of her kids turned out pretty well.

Thanks Ma!

I actually did live in a double wide for a few years but even then I was aware of my privilege

Huh? My story? Okay. It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi...

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by OWLFAN86

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I thought you were a Mexican?