“You look beautiful and politically incorrect.” I know. I tried on a rich lady’s fur coat in a resale shop. Like trying on another life, a fiction of who I might have been if only. Ten years old in a tan wool coat with a mouton collar. Snow flurries. Fur around my face on the walk to school. Gift from the father I had only just met. In Joplin, Missouri. Wild woman’s child. Bruised. Scratched. Pounded into near submission. In yet another new school. Kids who’d known one another from the moment they slid from between their privileged mother’s thighs. “That is not your coat,” one of them said when I walked in all proud. “Where did you get that?” This is Not a poor me story. This is A throw back story of where I came from. I haven’t been poor for a very long time. A pissed off reminder about blind ignorance about class in America. It’s real. #driven #fostergirls #staynoisy #raisedonrobbery #mamawasagrifter #tbt https://www.instagram.com/p/B8RZWsLBVKd/?igshid=y6cxn1jjekpz