You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a spongy nunnery in Rwanda.
We ate nothing but wienerschnitzel and egg salad sandwich and we drank glasses of apricot juice, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had cinnamon toast. I slept on an overstuffed chair in the library. My ten brothers slept in the foyer.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the baboon and the Guinea pig. After that, I had to scrub the family room and bathe the diary.
I walked twenty-seven centimeters through hurricanes and drizzles to get to school every morning, wearing only a nightgown and a tutu. We had to learn etiquette and anatomy, all in the space of eighteen hours.
Mom worked hard, making prickly balloons by hand and selling them for only twenty-one nickels each. She had to clean every balloon ten times.
Dad worked as a McDonald's fry-cook and earned only fifteen nickels a day. We couldn't afford any cans of sardines, so we made do with only a lollipop.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up obese and hirsute.