to splurge or not to splurge, or how suze orman ruined my life

It all started under the dome shaped dryer at Bubbles.  I was there getting my hair highlighted.  My stylist had just finished foiling my hair and had lead me over to the row of dryers where I’d spend some ten or fifteen minutes waiting.  Since I currently do not like to be alone with my thoughts (I think I’ve mentioned this here before . . . inactivity makes me uncomfortable) and because I am a chatterbox, I made a few phone calls.  Yes, I made phone calls from under the dryer.  I scheduled a physical, called my husband, and even left a message for my mother.  When these calls were done, alone with my thoughts, I picked up a magazine.  I flipped the pages of Vanity Fair reading about beauty treatments, fashion, health, and then stumbled upon an article by Suze Orman.  I have to be honest, I’m not sure why I read the article.  I don’t much care for thinking about money; in fact, my family’s finances are handled almost entirely by my husband.  Anyway, Suze wrote about taking control of my finances in 2010, or 2009, I can’t remember if it was an old or new copy.  Again, I don’t usually like to think, talk about, or reflect on money.  My role in our family tends to be that of “investor.”  I invest in kids’ toys, chocolate milk, home ware, cleaning products, beauty products, health products, music, food, and if possible, camera equipment.

I wasn’t always like this.  Ten years ago, I remember saving every dollar and penny I earned from my multiple jobs for a rainy day.  I didn’t know what my rainy day would involve, but I just wanted to make sure that should I need it, I’d have a few dollars saved up.  When it came to clothes, I shopped at second hand shops, wore my sister and mother’s hand-me-downs, and waited until holidays for new items.  I often refer to this stage in my life as “my ascetism.”   I wasn’t exactly the happiest person during this time in my life; I felt disconnected, in a way, from other people.  At least where I grew up (here in the United States), materialism is a way of life.  By barring myself of having things, I noticed that I felt “different.”   Even my father, who I remember as being, let’s say, attentive to our family’s finances, asked me to to lighten up and enjoy life a little bit.  He said I needed to live my life.  I was in my early twenties, feeling philosophical, doubtful, and worried.  I didn’t know what “live” meant.

I won’t say that I miraculously changed overnight.  There was a period, probably early in my relationship with my husband, when I would allow myself to have things here and there. I remember getting a pedicure, trying to enjoy the experience, feeling riddled with guilt the entire time.  A few months before we were engaged, my husband invited me to attend a vacation wedding with him at a resort in Jamaica.  The entire time we were there, I complained that I didn’t like having people wait on me.  I didn’t want someone to bring me a glass of champagne.  If I wanted champagne, I would get a glass for myself.  He says I nearly ruined that trip.  While I regret being unappreciative of the great gift he was giving me (a chance to see a new place, meet new people, observe wildlife, and spend time with him), I suspect that my inability to enjoy the gift had something to do with my family background: I grew up in a working class family.  Both my parents worked long and hard hours; if either my sister and I wanted something, we worked for it.   Accepting gifts somehow seemed wrong.

When I became a mother and became environmentally concerned (conscious), I returned, on some levels, to the a life style I’d known  years earlier: the life of making do without.   In part, I think I felt incredibly lucky to be at home with my daughter; I knew that being with her for all the small moments was priceless . . . and yet, again, I felt uncomfortable with accepting the gift my husband was giving me, giving my daughter too: the gift of time.   Time for her to have her mother’s attention, time for me to just spend hours staring at my baby.  At the same time, I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t enjoying my time at home too much.  Even now, when I walk through my house picking up toys, socks, and dishes and bowls left here and there, I think to myself, this is how I am serving the world: I am serving my family.

But again, I wonder, do I take it too far?  During my first two years at home with Annabelle, I shopped only at secondhand shops and would only welcome “brand spanking new” items into my life when they were gifts.  I’m not claiming that I was some kind of saint or anything, but I do know that I’d even wait until the holidays for new underwear because I knew that my mother would buy me a few pairs . . .  I wanted to save money, reduce my impact upon our planet, and feel good in that I didn’t “need” anything.

The truth was and is that I do have needs.  We all do.  As you might’ve noticed in recent posts, I have, to some extent, done a 180.  I no longer have an aversion to shopping. My husband might say that that is an understatement.  I accept that I every now and again I want to treat myself to Starbucks and a pair of new earrings.  Many of my therapy sessions in these past six months have dealt with the fact that I have trouble giving to myself.  At one session, I remember my therapist clapping her hands because I told her that on a whim, I walked into Victoria’s Secret and bought myself a bra and underwear.  I even came home with a fragrance.

Over time, though, in these most recent months, I worry that I have become too comfortable with spending money: I’ve become a shopping queen.  To find out just how much I am spending, I tracked all of my expenses for the past 2 weeks.  I really didn’t think it would be so bad, but I’ve got to tell you, I could not believe how much money I’d spent!  Items purchased included a new bedspread, new carmats, childcare, highlights and a haircut (where Suze Orman made me get all financially-aware and everything), lots of chocolate milk and tea (on outings with the kids), Annabelle’s ballet class, books . . . I’d spent a small fortune.  During two weeks time, I’d spent enough to buy a decent lens for my camera.

So I dialed up my best friend and told her.   She too enjoys shopping.  We like to shop together.  We find neat things together.  But lately, even she has commented that shopping can get out of control.  She immediately reminded me of Crunchy Chicken’s Buy Nothing Challenge, which I’d participated in a few summers ago.   During that summer month, I abstained from any non-food purchase.  If I remember correctly, my husband even felt annoyed with me because I was participating in the challenge during one of our family vacations and I made a huge deal about not buying anything.

To get to my point, I am going to once again participate in a month of not buying anything.  While I am not going to set up a challenge like the Crunchy Chicken has done, I will invite you to encourage me, join me, or just leave your 2 cents as I embark on a month long adventure of saying no to stuff.   My plan is to write down all the items that I think that I want to buy and to then evaluate my list at the end of the month.  I’m pretty sure that I won’t have needed nor wanted all that is on the list by the end of the month.

P.S.  I’ve asked my husband to be supportive, and I know, with great certainty, that he’s pretty happy I am challenging myself to reign in my spending.  That said, I do not want to not do for myself . . . know what I’m saying?

Moderation is key.