Dear beloved family (aka the people who raised me, fed me, and now must fund me),

I come before you today not as a grown adult with responsibilities, but as your child/cousin/niece/nephew who is humbly begging for coins like it’s 2008 and I’m still selling candy at church.

Life has been life-ing. Bills piling up like dirty laundry. My wallet thinner than the edge of grandma’s Bible pages. And every time I check my bank account, it just laughs at me like, “good luck champ.”

So here’s the deal: instead of you all roasting me at the next family cookout for being broke, I’m giving you a chance to invest in my glow-up. Think of it as buying stock in me—except instead of dividends, you’ll just get the satisfaction of knowing I can afford groceries and maybe some gas.

Your donation can make a difference:

• $5 = keeps me from starving for at least 2 hours.

• $20 = guarantees I won’t ask you for gas money when I “drop by.”

• $50 = I might actually show up to Thanksgiving looking successful.

• $100+ = you basically own me. Congratulations, I’m your problem now.

So family, dig deep in those pockets (I know y’all got it, I saw the new purse at the reunion). Support me in my hour of need, and I promise to keep making you laugh, sending you memes, and being the funniest broke person you know.

With love,

Lili