I still don’t get why I’m lower middle class.
“Welcome to Easy Spirit.” “Home of bunion relief and rubber-sole heels.” My working girl years began there as a high school senior. I was admonished by a customer to “take care of your feet,” as we struggled to find a pair of leather flats that would yield to the protrusion on her side foot. She told me how carelessly she’d worn 5 inch platforms to trample around New York City’s subway-concrete terrain throughout the 70s. I wish she’d also said, “Girl, Get your Money Right,” like Glinda Bridgforth and Gail Perry-Mason. 10 years later, I bought this book from a street vendor while on the search for comfortable flats I could use to navigate the concrete jungle. I had heeded the feet first advice, but it wasn’t until I completed my financial genogram exercise from Glinda and Gail that I was able to map out the beliefs that garnished my wages. 10 years later, after a slew of jobs that earned me up to $1.50 more than gathering shoes for retirees, I began finding 4 more streams of income.
It’s hard to see that the sum of our choices is what creates our future, bunions and all.
I still don’t get it 