Frugal Confessions

Posted on | July 31, 2009 | No Comments

Penny-pincher, stingy, Scrooge, cheapskate, cheap.

Call me what you will, but I am frugal by choice. During the week I secretly clip coupons while at work, searching through the inserts of other people’s newspapers (I never buy my own) with the innocent excitement of a child trying out a newly released video game. In my arsenal I pile high all of the coupons of things I normally use, then the coupons of products that I could use if the right bargain hits me, and then the ones for products that are a stretch, but that I just can’t let go of in case of the unthinkable happening—the store I just happen to be at is having a mega-sale on this very particular product that I would never own except if I found it for under $2 and could smugly brag to my friends about what a bargain I had found. It’s exhilarating.

Everything in my life reflects my 10+ years of living frugally, from an apartment stocked with oddities—leftover remnants of other peoples’ cupboards and closets from when they have moved away (a half-filled box of sandwich bags, a box of generic dry-cleaning sheets cut into half to last twice as long, the frayed inseam from my boyfriend’s old pair of jeans that serves as my cat’s primary toy), a broken futon propped up with a stack of books, a mousse hair product purchased for $2 almost ten years ago that still comes out with cloud-like fluffiness—to my 1997 Chevy Cavalier boasting over 221,000 miles. But I don’t suffer any, nor do I go without; with a little ambience candle lighting, my home probably looks and feels normal with as many photographed memories (though I didn’t spend a dime to actually develop the photographs, nor buy the picture frames) and cherished moments as the next persons’. It’s just that I choose to not pay above what I consider fair market value (or a darn good steal) for any of these things. And so I don’t.

Oh, I have war stories. Last year, confronted with my first squelching hot summer in the Southern United States, and partially due to shock from the rise in the cost of living from my old home town, I went on an AC strike. The air conditioning had ceased working in my car again and I was first concerned with the prospect of paying the $150 to fix it, and then secondly worried over the possibility that daily use of the AC would somehow stress out the entire system and cause my cash cow to breakdown, sending my fragile ecosystem of frugality up in a stream of heatstroke. So I went without…for the entire summer. Inspired by my ability to take the heat in essentially a greenhouse on wheels, I resisted the temptation to use my apartment’s AC for as long as I possibly could—ending that strike on precisely July 14th at 9:30pm, when I could no longer fathom another night of writhing in my clammy, discounted sheets.

In reality, I could not keep up such stamina in the face of constantly nagging temptations, like convenience, save for the fact that frugality is really a passion of mine. When I can come home after slicing together a coupon, rebate and store deal for 90% off of retail, survive a week on $20 and my smile, or squeeze another six months out of my work shoes by freezing them to kill off bacteria, my blood gets pumping. And so I wish to confess to you my humorous journey of frugality, both past adventures and present dealings, and give you a glimpse at something I hold so near and dear to my heart.

If nothing else, you may just be inspired to live out your own frugal fantasies. Or maybe you will leave that bit of decadence to me.

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