privilege in the dirt

Working class girls are a commodity, or so I'm discovering. It could be the social circles I move in, and it could be that I'm just more sensitive to noting the distaste in someone's voice when confronted with one of the simpler pleasures in life.

Every day I am humbled by my job. Humbled by the courage and openness I'm privileged to witness in the people I work for. It is because of this I feel bad when I get frustrated by my own privilege.

Yes. I am privileged. And in so many ways, that I have to remind myself, even though things may seem tough right now I have so many things to be thankful for that there is no other option than to pull myself up by my bootstraps and keep marching on. That's what a working class girl does. No matter how crappy she feels. No matter how little there is in the bank account. No matter what.

So the thought for the day is: Should you have a day when you feel like eating worms, be thankful you really don't have to.

Or...

I got a pocket full of straws. I'll give you one so you can just suck it up.

You know?

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