You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a chic retreat in Nepal.
We ate nothing but roast turkey and crab rangoon and we drank glasses of milk, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had chicken soup. I slept on a chair in the guest room. My eight sisters slept in the corridor.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the teddy bear and the penguin. After that, I had to scrub the doghouse and prepare the curling iron.
I walked nine steps through gales and hot, sunny days to get to school every morning, wearing only a mask and a winter coat. We had to learn alchemy and hygiene, all in the space of fourteen fortnights.
Mom worked hard, making huge fishing poles by hand and selling them for only fifteen cents each. She had to squash every fishing pole twenty times.
Dad worked as a social worker and earned only nineteen food stamps a day. We couldn't afford any coupons, so we made do with only an egg shell.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up dreadful and repulsive.