News Flash! The economy is all jacked up!
Oh. You heard?
In light of the disaster that is the economy, I'm going to do something that I never do on Slice of Pink and actually follow up on something that I started to tell you about, once upon a time. I often tell you things only to never speak of those things again. Largely, this is because I lack follow through, both on this blog and in real life. For instance, hula hooping to health? Despite my best intentions--despite actually purchasing a hula hoop--I did not once hula my way to physical fitness.
But let's ignore my failures.
If you have been around these parts for awhile, you'll remember back in 2006 I did a little experiment. The experiment was called June Money Madness and for one whole month I tracked my purchases. I wrote down every dollar I spent on sun dresses, movie tickets, cokes, hairspray and nachos. I dutifully kept track of pancakes and pizza and postcards and purses and presents and parking fees.
In one month, I spent $1169.94. Over half of that money was spent on just three things: clothing, eating out, and trips to Target. The nearly $1200 outlay did not include a single bill--I did not pay a penny to the electric company or the car insurance. Not a penny went to rent or utilities.
I was shocked that I had spent so much money, largely on nothing at all. As I pointed out:
Last month, I could have purchased a Burberry trench coat with the money I spent, and still had some change leftover for, oh, maybe a Coach tote. Instead, I have two skirts I picked up at Costco, a stand of fake pearls from Target, and a bottle of hairspray. The other thousand bucks? Who knows!
The following month, July 2006, I decided to spend less, but I implemented no actual plan to meet this goal. I was just going to, you know, spend less. No biggie. I just wouldn't go to Target so often.
I ended up spending more.
So over two years ago,
I went on a budget and cut my spending in half. I gave myself $120 a week to spend in any way I pleased. I never talked about it here again, which is a real shame because the budget? It worked.
I stopped using credit cards. I stopped using my ATM card. I had $120 cash each week and I made that $120 last from Monday to Sunday. Some weeks I spent it all by Wednesday. Some weeks I had $80 left over at the end of the week. Some weeks I spent it all on a single clothing item. Some weeks I blew it on coffee drinks and cheap lunches.
It's crazy to say, but the budget actually changed things. Our savings account grew and grew. We paid off our credit cards. I stopped feeling guilty about buying a great pair of shoes, because if I had the cash, I knew I could afford them. It was less money, sure, but it was liberating. Profoundly liberating. I could throw the money in the trash, if that's what I wanted to do, and it would be okay because the savings account would continue to grow and the debts would continue to be nonexistent.
When I got to law school, I went really crazy and turned my $120 allowance into a $60 allowance, cutting my monthly outlay in half for the second time. I now live on $60 a week, plus an extra $60 a month for a haircut. All said, I spend about $300 a month. It was a personal mission of sorts--a choice I made myself. I think that is absolutely critical to the success of a crazy, strict budget. I'm not sure I would be so onboard with a similar sort of budget imposed on me by an accountant or a husband. The challenge, it is personal.
I use my credit card for only three purchases: groceries, health care, and law school expenses (which, I admit, included a pretty cute suit. What? I have to go to interviews for legal jobs, people!). My monthly billing statement is extremely short, maybe three or four items, always paid in full at the end of the month.
Getting control of my spending meant that I had to get really bossy with myself. To be frank, sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it means drinking a bottle of wine in, rather than going out. Sometimes it means choosing between a good pair of shoes and a good skirt. Sometimes it means saying no. Sometimes it means being--dare I say--a miser.
But, really? It's not so bad. Somehow, I still have great wine and great friends and great memories. Can it be true? Money doesn't buy happiness? My 2006 self might not have agreed, but my 2008 self has a whole new perspective.
And, funny, now that I don't blow $400 at Target each month, my husband is so much more inclined take me out for fancy meals.
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