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Confessions of a Thrifter
I don’t understand books or movies like Confessions of a Shopaholic. I guess that’s because I, unlike most people, like doing my finances. I like writing down my budget every month, making a list of projected expenses, setting the amount for pocket money, and keeping track of my savings.
I find all of that very therapeutic. In fact, I must say I feel downright content and pleased with myself whenever I do my monthly financial transactions.
From what I understand, this is the sort of activity that most people would be more than happy to avoid. Women, in particular, are notoriously bad with their financial education, since there’s that outdated expectation that somebody else will take care of their financial needs (aka gold-digging).
I think that perhaps people who don’t like keeping tabs on their personal financial security are people who have always had money handed down to them. And once these people grew up, they were faced with the reality that money doesn’t come in an endless stream.
When I was growing up, I had no money at all. I didn’t even have a bank account set up. In elementary school, my parents didn’t give me any allowance. If I wanted something, I had to make a case on why I had to have it. I liked doing the groceries on the weekends along with my parents, because that was the only way I could ask for extras-a cake was a luxury that was supposed to last the whole week. Gifts were always so wonderful-even if it was just a chocolate bar-because I couldn’t even go to the store to get one for myself. My lack of money ensured my dependency.
But when I was 14 years old, in high school, my parents decided that I should be given 50 Pesos a day, other than the packed lunch I was usually given. I don’t know why they decided to gift me with some money; perhaps, it was money to be spent on snacks. I knew, of course, that I wouldn’t be spending it all on snacks. I would spend perhaps P10 for snacks. The rest of the money was saved on other things that made me happy: books and gift-giving. I saved P20 for books, and the other P20 for Christmas gifts. (I had 20+ friends, so Christmas gift budgeting was necessary.)
You have no idea how happy I was then-every two weeks I could afford to get myself a new book instead of standing inside a bookstore for hours surreptitiously finishing a novel. Money doesn’t necessarily buy happiness, but it buys us more choices and options, and if the right choices are made then happiness might follow.
The best part about having money was the fact that I no longer needed to justify to anybody why I deserved anything at all. Instead of asking anyone else, I could just get it for myself. I found that I could not go back to begging; due to the unstable relationships I have with the people in my young life, dependency on anyone really scares me.
When I was 15, I had my first job. The pay wasn’t substantial, but it was enough for me to have something that was my own and nobody else’s. That was just enough independence for me. My financial situation was the one area in my life in which I had substantial control.
Moving to Canada, my parents send me to high school with only $2 a day. That would sometimes buy a chocolate bar. Or bananas. Mostly, I ate half of Claire Chun’s lunch. Good thing I was an aloof oddball then, because that meant I no longer had 20+ friends to think about come Christmastime. I was an expert on being poor, but even then I was always mindful of my independence.
The truth is that it doesn’t really quite matter how much money one has, but the lifestyle lived is crucial. I don’t wonder how much money people earn; I wonder how much people spend. I think most people make the mistake of setting an unflexible lifestyle, and then trying to find the money to support said lifestyle. That almost never works.
But people very rarely learn. Even as early as ancient Pompeii, people displayed their ostentatiousness by portraying tipped-over wine glasses, as if to say that they can afford to waste. Back in 17th Centrury Florence, still life paintings were all the craze, especially since they were paintings of finery. Nevermind that it was all fake—often these painted goods were just borrowed for show, and worth very little at the end of the day.
Our modern-day equivalents are women who brag on their profiles about how they are “shopaholics,” and I suppose the male counterparts brag about how they are “ballers.” As if that’s some sort of admirable quality. Owing money feels like slavery. Buying things left and right, only to be harrassed into paying seems like a nightmare that people unknowingly trap themselves into.
It’s just like Fight Club said, “The things we own end up owning us.” I take budgeting as a form of self-knowledge:
I like knowing which things are essential to me.
I like knowing where exactly I throw my money into.
I like knowing how much I’m probably going to spend this year.
I like knowing whether or not I should take a second job.
I like knowing whether or not I can afford to take a class this term.
I like knowing my chances of having a trip or a vacation.
I’m not without my frivolities (case in point: I have more than 20 Threadless shirts, none of which are necessary for everyday survival), but in any case I like anticipating my expenses. And curbing them when need be.
I’m not about to advocate that we should stop spending absolutely, only that if we must exchange our independence for things, then perhaps we might be a little more selective about the worth of things that we exchange our freedoms for.
