July 20, 2007
People talk to us about money...a lot. Probably because we have none. You see, up until a few months ago we were living completely off of student loans--and trust me when I tell you that those lenders don't give you a whole lot of money to live off of. Pretty much if you were a single person, who hated to eat, living in an efficiency apartment in 1967 you'd be really impressed with our loan check every semester. But if you're anyone else, the loan check would either make you snarf or you'd be like, "whaaaaa????" Of course the tides have turned in recent months now that I've landed my high-earning position as an executive babysitter (that was sarcastic).
Anyway, when people hear about our current financial situation, they usually react in one of two ways. They're either like:
"Wow, you guys are penniless morons!" To which I usually reply, "So are you." Because, let's face it guys, most people are.
Or they're like"
"Wow, I'm so impressed with your financial management skills and self control when it comes to spending." And I usually say something like, "Yes, I know. We're very proud of what we've been able to accomplish." And up until last night, I genuinely thought I was being sincere with that reply.
And then I had a bit of an epiphany.
I was lounging on the couch, watching some TV while Jared was at his softball game. I was flipping through our 7 channels, and stopped on that special about Victoria Beckham moving to America. You might want to spank me for saying this, but I think she's absolutely adorable. That girl has impeccable taste. Seriously you guys, she makes Paris Hilton look like a Garbage Pail Kid (remember those?). And that's when it hit me, like a thunder bolt from the heavens above....
I'm a very tacky girl.
And not just compared to that ex-Spice Girl--I'm tacky compared to most everyone. We don't survive off a dollar a day because I'm a good money manager. We survive off a dollar a day because I'm so wicked tacky, that my dollar can buy every single thing I want and then I still have some change to spare.
I'm serious you guys, I don't have my parent's kitchen table from the 1970's because we can't afford a new one. I have that table because I think it looks good.
I dress James in screen printed character tees with matching shorts on purpose. It's only an added bonus that they go on clearance for $4 at Kohl's. I think kids who only wear clothes from places like J Crew and Gap are getting totally ripped off by their moms. Because in my world, nothing says style like a Spiderman polo shirt coupled with a clunky pair of light-up Elmo sandals.
I don't drive an '89 Chevy Blazer because it was free, I drive the Blazer because it looks nice. Seriously, every time I see it sitting in a parking lot all rusted out I think to myself, "Amy, you're such a bad-ass, and you have one bad-ass car to prove it." I basically drive the 1980's version of 'Mater' from the movie cars--and I feel really, really good about that.
I know a lot of people like to spend a portion of their paycheck on a nice dinner out. Yo, not me. I swear to you that last Friday I deposited my check at the drive through teller and got $3 cash back. I drove right to CVS and used my cash to buy a big old bucket of those little puffy cheese balls. The bucket says "FLAVA PUFFS" in this big, bubbly, ghetto writing--and even though the flava puffs are long gone, I kept the bucket. It's my new favorite piece of tupperware.
Yeah, I'm tacky. I know it. I've got the orange flava puff dust around my mouth to prove it. I wasn't raised that way. My best guess is that it's a direct result of living in Central Maine all those years. I just can't wait for my husband to start making some money, because when he does we're gonna invest in some Flava Puff stock.