Ella
It's nine in the morning as I stand outside the extravagant entrance of the family mansion and my mom pulls up in a custom-paint-job metallic red Rolls-Royce.
"Baby, what are you wearing? I told you we were going somewhere special today."
I laugh as my mother complains, all in good nature. Apparently designer clothing isn't enough and she was expecting more than jeans, boots, and a cashmere sweater.
Mom's always been like that. She's fond of big gestures and extravagant things, and it's not like our family doesn't have the money for it.
For her it's a travesty that her daughter doesn't even have an expensive piece of jewelry or let alone a bag that's worth someone's monthly salary. She was particularly horrified to learn that George never spoiled me with presents.
"Mom, you
