Born rich or die trying?

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I’ve thought about this for some time – “If only I was born rich”. I’ve had many occasions where I’ve daydreamed myself into another life where I was filthy, stinky, rich, the young girl making money angels in a football field of hundred dollar bills, the one throwing money into air laughing like a maniac with no care in the world, and then I go back into reality and think to myself, nope I’m better off where I am.

I’m 24, no 23, and jobless at the moment. Its been near two months since I’ve gotten a pay and well the thought of being Mrs. Richie Rich has been visiting more than usual. Thus, this blog entry shall remind me of the few reasons why being born rich is something I would not have wanted. (For those who are born with a silver spoon in your mouth, I don’t mean to offend. This entry is purely about me and not you.)

Knowing me, I don’t think I fit into the type of person, that I truly do not ever want to become, and that is the Louis Vouton Vuitton handbag, Prada shoe, Gucci wallet, and ALL other designer label wearing person. I’m not saying all born rich people are like that, but I’ve seen my fair share to know that this is what some grow up to become. Do I despise it? No. Do I think snobby? Maybe? But to be fair game, if you earned it from hard work, you have the right to do what you want.

Then there is the dependency on cash, the total easy way out. I mean, sure, it must be nice to be able to afford eating delicious meals at high-class restaurants, living at an awesome ten-story house with a butler at your command, and all else attached to the rich but then everything seems like its there for you. You just don’t end up learning the fundamentals of coping in difficult situations and at worse, are blind sighted by the idea that money is everything. Nope, this is not for me.

Scoff if you want, but I’m super duper glad I wasn’t born rich. I thank my grandparents for sitting on their wad of cash that slowly disappeared leaving us to be middle tiered folks in society. It’s taught me to be independent on various levels. I didn’t need to ask for money consistently from my parents back in Singapore. I found ways to support myself – food, travel, living, and even at times school expenses. And no, I wasn’t a hooker. I was just that workaholic student giving tuition to, at once, five different students, while still handling schoolwork.

At the end of the day I’m a girl that finds happiness in making money from my own sweat, blood and tears. It gives me satisfaction knowing that I rightfully earned it. And who doesn’t love the excitement of getting that fat pay cheque at the end of every month? Born rich, or die trying? I’ll pick the latter. Slowly but steady I’ll work my way up.

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