I was from five ams, and ragged clothes. Dirt on my boots and uncombed hair, from TV dinners and roughhousing after.

I was from collecting eggs, milking cows, and cleaning horse stalls. From mornings with cloth pajamas and cowboy boots.

I was from a home; no neighbors, no father, and no structure. I thought it was life - if I only understood.

I am from a house with neighbors, a paved driveway, and my own room. With heat, steaming showers, Lululemon, and BMWs.

I am from Sunday brunch and Saturday worship. From elegance, foundation and mascara masking my imperfection.