Redic

As my fantastic friend Stephanie would say, "This is redic." Meaning, in case you don't have the slang or household inhabitant of a twelve-year-old, "This is ridiculous." Twice, in the same week, in the same store, albeit in separate locations, I felt like I was going to cry from sheer self-pity. The weight of an unimportant decision loomed over my head like one of those clouds above some poor self-reflective teenager in an afterschool special. There I am, a level-headed 26-year-old holding two dresses for events that I'll probably never attend, wondering which of the two I should sacrifice to the gods of H&M. Mind you, H&M, a massive retail store who sells very of-the-moment yet budget friendly fashions to fruganistas like moi, has countless replications of these two dresses --- both short, sleeveless, impossibly fitted, and guaranteed to make you the "girl in the [insert bold color here] dress" who has the men flocking. But for some reason, I sit in my dressing room, stand on the store floor, and lean against the mannequinned wall wondering, "Which one do I give up?", as if it's a decision equivalent to choosing Harvard or Princeton (which, I swear, would be much easier, because Harvard is a no-brainer, at least for me).

This wouldn't be so melodramatic if I didn't already have eight other dresses in my closet with the tags on them still (two with more than three years worth of closet-hangingness). And it also wouldn't be so bad if I'd worn the other dozen dresses more than once. But alas, no. I stand in the retail giant trying to argue with myself that no other dresses make a) my rear look as curvaceous and perky, b) my rack look as voluptuous as Kim Kardashian's, c) my body look as balanced as Eva Mendes', and d) my color seem as bright and honey-colored. And, even a week later, I will confess: this is all true. None of my other dresses are as slammin' as these two. But, surprisingly, I fling them back onto the rack in a haste of "This is REDIC" and proceed to the counter with two other, more rational and multifunctional, items that have been hiding under the crook of my arm during my half-hour deliberation. They are a grey sleeveless glen plaid shift dress with a slight cowl neckline and patent leather belt (timeless, yet Mad Men sex appeal) and a black pocketed cardigan with a removable faux fur neckline. It's that effortless chic that Rachel Zoe is always talking about achieving, that I felt I actually could achieve in this item.

I should have walked out triumphant, confident in the fact that I'd bought items that can multitask and withstand the fleeting emotions of fashion. Instead, I felt a pounding in my chest, a pressure behind my eyes, and a jitter in my fingers. It had come like this before. And as I ran to my rental (by the way, yes! My car has been found!) I knew there was only one thing to do: call Stephanie. I was pre-panic attack and I needed a rational, tell-it-like-it-is-in-a-nice-but-firm-way friend at that moment. I was delighted to hear her answer on the third ring, and, after 45 minutes of self-reflection, realized that I'm still that high school girl who thinks that having the right clothes, hair, and makeup will make me successful, as I often imagined the "Elite Four" of the senior class to be. As others present themselves on television to be. As the media, and ordinaries on the streets of Georgetown and U Street, present themselves to be.

The whole process made me feel shallow. And made me wonder what the hell I'm doing with myself. I was the girl who, even though I loved fashion and wished I could afford the Coach bags that several friends in high school flaunted, preferred to dress in "Tees and Timbs" as Justin Eldridge-Otero so succinctly put it, if it meant that I could get a few more books on my shelves and bus fare to open mic nights. WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT GIRL? Psychologists will tell you, "She grew up. And the expectations and preconceptions of the real world set in." I'd prefer to go with what my mama says, "You lost yourself. You spent so much time thinking about what you SHOULD look like instead of BEING who you SHOULD be."

To counteract all of this, I've added a new stipulation to the Unbroke(n) Project: be happy in who I am. I don't know the exact process in going about this, but I do know that it doesn't involve buying dresses I don't have any place to wear them to. Especially when I'll just end up thinking about how I should have just put that money towards a bill. And it'll also involve the release of expectations of others and the embrace of expectations of myself.

Break Your Money-taker

Swapped spending money for making money today. I set up all of my tutoring sessions for one of my tutoring students. And I stayed in the house, opting to make food and sort clothes instead of going to the club and buying drinks (I say this as a glass of rum and pineapple juice is nestled in the crook of my arm as I type this post). Today was spent tutoring and enjoying the height of Jon Hamm's forehead on disc 2 of my Mad Men catch-up DVDs. A quiet, simple day that should have ended with some company but instead ends with some Cruzan. Hey, at least it was free since it was already in the fridge!

Give up A, and Get B,C, D, and E

I didn't cave...much. I didn't get the dream coat, but I got a sportier, still warm anorak puffer. For $100 less than the dream coat, I got the daydream coat, a fur hat to wear in the super cold months, an olive green heavy sweater, a brown crochet sweater, and a transition coat (can be worn for not-so-cold winter days). In addition, mama paid for dinner tonight on a random trip home. And my boss gave me granola bars and hot tea to hold me over until I could get home to eat so that I wouldn't spend money on lunch. Everyone's helping tryna keep me on track... November 1st is only a few weeks away and I'm already off to a bangin start.

Tip #2: The Marshall's up the street from me puts its new merchandise out on Thursdays, marks clearance items around the same time, and puts all the designer stuff behind the cheaper stuff that looks the same. (This will be irrelevant come November 1st, since this is when I must cease all unnecessary clothing purchases.) Le sigh...

A Steep Hill to Climb

So here's the rub: my car was stolen. And I had a lot of clothes inside because I was going to do laundry. Winter clothes. Winter is well on its way. But now that I'm trying to limit my money, what the heck am I going to do about staying warm when it's only 17 degrees outside? Should I break down and buy additional sweaters (I have about five warm sweaters)? Or should I try to work some kind of miracle and rotate the five sweaters I have? And what about a coat? I don't have that either! Thieves are making it hard for me to budget.

Hopefully they find my car...as much as I hate old Ruby (my Dodge Neon who is 9 years old in November!), she's free. Paid for. Cheap, full coverage insurance from Progressive. Great fuel efficiency. I'm not really trying to take on a car note when I don't even have a full time job. Yes folks. I'll be attempting to pay off this debt while working part-time gigs (until I get my FT as an English teacher). So you see, even though old Ruby is a pain in my rear, cuz she needs a new motor, I need her. At least until I can afford a Corolla or a Civic or a, eh em, TSX :)

Off to bed: Practice #1 in increasing monthly money -- sleep better so I drink less coffee. I shouldn't need two cans per month!

Coming November 1st...

This is Kris. And as of November 1st, 2009, I will pledge to pay down my unhealthy debt, learn to budget my income in a meaningful and realistic way, and simultaneously attempt to tame my shopping habits. This blog will serve as my diary, my checkpoint, my stories of triumph and tumbles on this journey to become credit card debt free before January 31st, 2011. This blog will catalog my attempts to have a life, look fly, and learn about myself, all while eliminating my debt, one credit card at a time. Feel free to share your stories too! And get back with me on November 1st!!! I'm dedicating myself to this to become the woman I'm supposed to be and not the woman who LOOKS like the woman I'm supposed to be.

Many blessings,

Miss Kris