When I was very young, I mean very young, I couldn't afford to buy food. I had a full time job. It didn't pay enough to cover much more than a roof over my head. Couldn't even afford a bed. I ate dog food. Dry kibble, which I mixed with a bit of watered down orange juice left over from who knows when, mixed it all with a bit of warm water from the sink in the bathroom. Ate it all. I could spell it all out for you in a lengthy ten page description of the circumstances and in fine detail. What I have just written is enough. Was I "poor"? No. I was not. Not if I had a bathroom. Not if I had dog kibble. I must have been in a building with a roof on it. (I was) I didn't think for a second I was poor back then, and never have since. I can't always afford three square meals a day today. Am I poor? Nope. ::: When I was born my parents were poor, it was war time, nobody had any money to pay for my father to do surgery on them, so he worked pro bono for years. ::: My parents couldn't afford a crib for me. So, they put me in the bottom drawer of their dresser in their bedroom. Were we poor? Nope. :: My father could have been a very wealthy man. Could have been. He raised seven children, five adopted. He died intestate, half of the city of Montreal owed him money for the work he never charged them a penny for because they couldn't afford it. He didn't think he was poor. ::: We never did. ::: I rest my case.