You know you grew up lower-middle-class when these 10 things still feel like luxury to you

Growing up, I remember the first time I stayed in a hotel with room service. I was twenty-two, traveling for a college competition, and when my roommate casually picked up the phone to order breakfast, I nearly had a heart attack. "You can just... call them? And they bring food to your room?" The concept felt so wildly extravagant that I ate the complimentary crackers instead.

Even now, decades later and after years of working in finance where business dinners at five-star restaurants were routine, certain things still trigger that old feeling of "this is too fancy for someone like me." It's funny how our childhood experiences shape what feels normal versus what feels like an indulgence, no matter how far we've come.

If you grew up in a lower-middle-class household, you probably carry similar markers. These aren't necessarily about poverty or going without basics. They're about that particular space where your family had enough but not plenty, where small luxuries felt huge, and where certain experiences seemed reserved for "other people."

Here are ten things that might still feel surprisingly luxurious if this was your background.

1. Ordering drinks at restaurants

Water was free, and that's what we got. Every single time. The idea of paying three dollars for a soda when you could buy a whole twelve-pack at the grocery store for the same price? That math never made sense in my house.

To this day, when I order something other than water at a restaurant, there's this tiny voice in my head calculating how many grocery store versions I could get for the same price. Sure, I can afford it now, but that programming runs deep. And don't even get me started on ordering alcohol at restaurants. A fifteen-dollar cocktail still makes me pause and think, "That's almost two hours of minimum wage work."

2. Having matching furniture sets

In my childhood home, furniture had stories. The couch came from my aunt when she upgraded. The dining table was a garage sale find my parents refinished. The TV stand was actually a dresser with a broken drawer that worked perfectly once you removed the drawers.

Walking into a furniture store and buying a complete living room set? That still feels like something people do in movies. Even though I could easily afford it now, there's something in me that says "But this mismatched stuff still works fine." The idea of replacing functional furniture just because it doesn't match feels almost morally wrong.

3. Getting your car washed professionally

Why would anyone pay twenty dollars for something you could do yourself with a hose and some dish soap? This was the logic in my neighborhood, where Saturday mornings meant driveways full of people washing their own cars.

Professional car washes, especially those fancy ones where you stay in the car while it goes through the tunnel, felt like an absurd waste of money. Even now, sitting in that car wash, I feel a bit guilty. Like I should be out there with a bucket and a sponge, doing it myself like a responsible person.

4. Buying name-brand groceries

Store brand was king in our house. We had lengthy discussions about how "it all comes from the same factory anyway." Name-brand cereal was for birthday requests only.

I still find myself automatically reaching for generic brands, then having to remind myself that I can actually afford the extra fifty cents for the "real" peanut butter now. But that guilt when you put name-brand items in your cart? That's the ghost of lower-middle-class upbringing right there.

5. Using valet parking

Hand my car keys to a stranger and pay them to park my car when my legs work perfectly fine? This concept was so foreign to my family that the first time I encountered mandatory valet parking at a fancy hotel, I almost turned around and left.

We were the family that would circle the block eight times looking for free street parking rather than pay for a garage. The idea of paying someone to park for you when you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself still feels like the height of unnecessary extravagance.

6. Throwing away food that's slightly past its prime

"It's still good!" was basically our family motto. Slightly brown bananas became banana bread. Stale bread turned into French toast. That yogurt that expired yesterday? Give it the sniff test.

The freedom to throw away food just because it's not at peak freshness anymore feels rebellious. I still struggle with tossing wilted lettuce or slightly soft apples. There's a voice in my head calculating how many meals that wasted food represents.

7. Having multiple streaming subscriptions

Cable was a luxury we occasionally had and frequently lost, depending on the month. When Netflix first came out, the idea of paying monthly for entertainment when free TV existed seemed wild.

Now, even though I can easily afford multiple streaming services, adding a new one feels indulgent. "Do I really need Disney+ when I already have Netflix and Hulu?" The idea of having all of them at once still feels like something rich people do.

8. Buying books new

Library cards were sacred in my house. Why buy a book you'd read once when you could borrow it for free? Used bookstores were for special occasions. New books at full price? That was birthday and Christmas territory only.

Walking into a bookstore and buying a brand-new hardcover still gives me a thrill that feels slightly forbidden. That twenty-eight dollar price tag for something I'll read in two days? Part of me still thinks I should wait for the paperback or check the library first.

9. Taking clothes to the dry cleaner

If it couldn't be washed at home, we didn't buy it. "Dry clean only" was code for "not for people like us." My mother would hand wash "dry clean only" items in the sink with gentle detergent and hang them to dry, insisting it worked just as well.

The first time I took clothes to the dry cleaner as an adult, I felt like I was playing dress-up as a fancy person. Paying someone else to clean my clothes when I have a perfectly good washing machine at home still feels somewhat ridiculous.

10. Ordering appetizers and dessert

Restaurant meals in my childhood followed a strict formula: everyone gets one entree, we share if someone's still hungry, and dessert happens at home with ice cream from the freezer.

The idea of ordering appetizers, entrees, AND dessert at a restaurant was something we saw other tables do while we did the mental math of how much they must be spending. Now, when I order that appetizer or suggest dessert, there's still a moment of "Are we really doing this?"

Final thoughts

These lingering feelings about luxury aren't really about money anymore. They're about the deep programming of our formative years, the lessons about value and waste that were drilled into us when resources were tight.

There's nothing wrong with carrying these sensibilities into adulthood. In fact, that awareness of cost and value has served me well, even in my finance career where I watched colleagues blow through bonuses like they'd never end. That lower-middle-class programming taught me that money can disappear as quickly as it comes, that small luxuries should be appreciated, not taken for granted.

Sometimes I consciously push against these instincts, ordering the drink or buying the name-brand item just to prove to myself that I can. Other times, I embrace them, finding satisfaction in finding a good deal or making do with what I have.

What matters is recognizing where these feelings come from and choosing when to honor them and when to let them go. Our backgrounds shape us, but they don't have to limit us. And honestly? That appreciation for small luxuries that comes from not always having them might just be one of the best gifts a lower-middle-class upbringing can give.