Damn, I was poor

I knew we were poor growing up.  For the most part, we did not know it.  Hold on...let me rephrase that.  I knew we were poor from other people.  Not that they would tell me, well sometimes they would.  Most of the time I knew by comparing experiences.  It hits me like a ton of bricks, I sulk and say "damn, I was poor".
Once upon a time, velour was the big thing.  Everyone had velour sweaters and shirts.  This was not a good time in history.  Well me and my brother and sister wanted to be "in" too.  When this was addressed with our mother, she looked at us with conviction and told us that she would make it.  She bought a large bolt of orange velour (I know what a bolt of fabric is because our mom was always making us stuff).  Not just regular orange, but the kind of orange that shows up on satellite photos, the kind of orange that screams "KEEP CLEAR".  We ended up with matching shirts, sweaters and bathrobes.  We looked like the Partridge family on crack.
Years ago, I had a co-worker who was exactly one month younger than me.  He mentioned that was in the Boy Scouts for his entire youth.  I was in the boy scouts for a couple of years, so it stood to reason that we were at some of the same events.  He talked about camp, that I had gone to as well.  He could not get it out of his head how we had not run into each other.  He asked what bunk house I remember being in, this is where it unraveled. "Bunk house??? You got to stay the night there??? It was a day camp, we did not stay the night".  He stared at me while he processed the information, then announced "you were with the inner-city kids, they just come for the day."
Recently, my wife and I were talking about school lunches.  She asked what I usually had for lunch.  Tuna, I replied. I ate it everyday, until I could afford to buy my own lunch.  My wife insisted I was wrong, she knew we were poor and there was no way my mom was making tuna sandwiches everyday.  I told her that my mom made a can of tuna once a week and I had sandwiches from it all week.  It was like an anvil to my head.  One can of tuna that lasted a whole week?!?! Can you imagine how much mayonnaise it would take to make ONE can of tuna last a week?  I was eating MAYO SANDWICHES!

Damn, I was poor.