Articles by Frugaling

$200 Food Budget Failure?

You spend how much on food every month?!

Last month I ventured into the unknown and created a food and drink budget. Yes, this frugal guy had created a budget in prior months, but time after time, I was over $400 per month. It was ridiculous and hurting my chances to stay out of debt.

Working 60 to 80-hour weeks made me tired, cranky, hungry, and constantly on-the-go. I was stressed, and had all the symptoms of having four positions: counselor, student, instructor, and writer.

I’d frequently feel hungry and be without food, which was a recipe for disaster. Preparing lunches was a mental hurdle, as I would constantly procrastinate to avoid it. I spent way too much money on fast food (i.e., salad bars, Subway, etc.).

Even when I packed snacks and lunches, I blew through it and bought more. I was hungry and I let that natural desire overpower my frugal side.

Individual and social pressure to make a change

Frankly, in the frugal community, $400 per month for a single guy’s food and drink budget is embarrassing. Cue the chortles and disdain. But perhaps I can circumvent and prevent a potential audience-led diatribe by saying, I want to own it.

I was failing to properly save in this domain. Something had to be done.

Then, I saw an article by a fellow personal finance blogger, Laurie, of The Frugal Farmer. She explained how her family of four spent about $215 on food for one month. My cheeks reddened. Here was an entire family doing a better job than this one guy.

After that article, and in the face of a new year, I decided to set my own goal for January: $200 for all food and drinks. If they could do it, why couldn’t I?

This isn’t going to be easy, is it?

So, in January, the month of resolutions, I decided to embark on this new budgetary goal. Like a Messiah warrior preparing to do battle, I wanted to defeat this budget buster.

Pulverize! Demolish! Obliterate!

I thought, “This should be easy enough. I’m a single guy, and don’t have fancy meals. Yes, I have some allergies, but that shouldn’t affect my shopping much.”

Four days passed before I went to the grocery store. The trip came in just over $74. I remember my buddy asking me whether I could make it the rest of the month.

“You only have $125 left, then,” he said.

My reply was cool and nonchalant, “Well, I actually spent a bit of money on food while traveling back to Iowa from Colorado, and went on a date the other day. In total, I’ve spent $125.”

He smiled and shook his head. And I stubbornly stayed optimistic. Little did I understand, it wouldn’t take me long to cross that $200 line.

Timeline of my busted food budget

For the purposes of this month experiment, I took day-by-day notes of what I had purchased and why. The following is a timeline of purchases and inside look at how I totally failed.

Day 1: $8.05 (McDonald’s breakfast, drink later in day)
Day 2: $12.19 (Dinner while traveling)
Day 3: $0
Day 4: $103.35 (Breakfast date and groceries)
Day 5: $0
Day 6: $2.28 (Coffee)
Day 7: $5.04 (Coffee date)
Day 8: $0
Day 9: $0
Day 10: $0
Day 11: $52.53 (Bar date and groceries)
Day 12: $0
Day 13: $6.34 (Groceries)
Day 14: $4.92 (Snacks)
Day 15: $0
Day 16: $10.40 (Groceries)
Day 17: $54.38 (Groceries)
Day 18: $0
Day 19: $28.42 (Groceries)
Day 20: $0
Day 21: $0
Day 22: $0
Day 23: $0
Day 24: $45.82 (Groceries)
Day 25: $0
Day 26: $28.97 (Groceries)
Day 27: $0
Day 28: $0
Day 29: $0
Day 30: $0
Day 31: $0

Total: $362.69

What the heck did I buy?

Generally, I have a simple diet. The one caveat is that I’m on a modified gluten-free diet (low FODMAP) for IBS. Let me tell you that if I break away from these dietary restrictions, my intestines quickly fall apart and I’m lethargic, gassy, dyspeptic, and cranky. When I can follow the highly restrictive, plain diet I feel better. The consequence is that I have to buy some more expensive gluten-free items to feel healthy.

Breakfast foods

Cereal (rice or corn-based)
Oatmeal
Eggs
Turkey bacon

Lunch foods

Gluten-free bread
Turkey meat
Sliced cheese
Mustard
Lettuce
Peanut butter
Jelly
Spinach
Carrots
Cherry tomatoes
Bell peppers
Balsamic vinegar

Dinner foods

Frozen salmon
Rice
Frozen vegetables
Gluten-free pasta
Tomato sauce

Snacks

Potato chips
Gluten-free pretzels
Bananas
Grapes

What went wrong with the budget and plan?

After I read Laurie’s article, I was amazed by their depression-inspired goals and budgetary constraints. Even though they weren’t able to keep it under $200, either, they were remarkably close (~$215).

I wasn’t anywhere close to my goal. There were various potholes and hiccups that I never expected when I first started this experiment. Here’s where I got tripped up:

Single, but dating

While I’m a single guy, on occasion I’ve been known to go out with women. I know, mind-boggling! Despite major movements and momentum in the dating world, men are still expected to treat for first dates oftentimes.

I went on a few dates this month, and that cost me $48.81. Ouch! That’s nearly a quarter of the total budget I started with.

There are various solutions to this problem: choose more affordable locations (i.e., coffee shops), stop dating, and/or pay for my own meals/drinks.

Fresh vegetables

After completing this experiment, I looked back at Laurie’s article to see how much vegetables cost her family. All I found was pasta sauce and potatoes. Clearly this had benefited her family’s budget, and reduced their total spending.

Despite vegetables accounting for much of the spend this past month, I refuse to budge on this aspect. Vegetables are low in sugar, high in vitamins, and incredibly fibrous. They’re too healthy to cut down or out.

One solution I could begin to adopt is buying more loose-leaf lettuces to make my own salad mixes. Also, I could likely buy more canned vegetables.

Gluten-free/low-FODMAP

The last problem I noticed was that my special diet restrictions caused my budget to balloon. Whereas a frugal-friendly loaf of bread (w/ gluten) sells for about $1, the gluten-free/FODMAP-friendly Udi’s white bread costs about $5. Additionally, the loaves are about half the size. In total, Udi’s gluten-free bread costs about 750-1000% more.

Similarly, pretzels can be purchased for about $1-2 a bag. But the gluten-free versions cost about $3.50. Over and over again, the dietary restrictions affected my ability to stay under that coveted $200 mark.

The solutions are more difficult to find on this front, too. Ideally, my body wouldn’t react like gluten-laden products were an intruder. Ideally, I could eat tons of legumes (beans) and bread products. I would have far more flexibility in saving and scrounging. The best I can come up with is to plan for meals and try to use rice more often than gluten-free pastas or breads. Rice is always cheap, and just so happens to be the most common food worldwide.

Reframing failure as lessons learned

Have friends and family behind you

When I first told my friends, they all expressed curiosity about how I’d do it. The budget was large in its smallness — it spoke louder than any sentence I could write. Pricelessly, my budget announcement and sharing brought people in and many wondered how they, too, could participate.

Self-compassion for “failures”

During this month, I overspent my budget by $162.69. That’s shocking, embarrassing, and a bit disheartening. I’m disappointed in my own perseverance, resolve, and planning.

Fortunately, I use “failure” casually. Research suggests that when people respond to these “failures” with self-compassion they can better correct future actions. I don’t actually see this month as a failure; rather, inspiration to keep working at my food budget and continue to find ways to reduce the spending.

I want to get to $200.

Sometimes frugality — to the extreme — isn’t healthy

Frugality in food tends to overemphasize the reduction of fresh vegetables and fruits and supplementation of carbs like bread and pasta. While these food choices feel filling, keep budgets happy short-term, and provide the base of many frugal meals, they can have negative health effects. Starches and carbs tend to lead to excess weight, as they are processed comparably to sugar in the digestion process.

Instead of sacrificing my long-term health for short-term financial gains, I look forward to making a truly healthy budget. Don’t get rid of the vegetables!

Food budget challenge — take 2!

January just ended, but I’m already signing up for another month of this experiment. This time I want you to join me!

If you’re already at $200, I’d love to hear how you do it. If you can’t imagine reducing your food and drink budget to $200, let’s try together. If you’re not sure you want to reduce your food budget, why not?

Who’s with me?

Frugal Articles of the Week

By Frugaling 2 Comments

Every week I like to feature a few frugal articles that caught my eyes. Curl up in your favorite reading nook and enjoy. Hopefully these encourage you to live frugal lives!

This Cold House by Ken Ilgunas
The semi-famous Millennial writer of Walden on Wheels was just published in the New York Times! He’s lived out of vans, hiked the length of the proposed Keystone XL pipeline route, and now he’s turning the temperature down — way down. In this latest experiment, Ken turned down the thermostat of a 4,000 square foot house to 45 degrees. He would’ve gone colder, but then the pipes might burst. Join him on this mini adventure! It’s a fun one.

No Sidebar: A New Approach to Life by Brian Gardner
Minimalism can prevent distraction. Brian Gardner designs incredible WordPress themes and websites with this effect in mind. He gets readers to focus on content, instead of widgets, ads, and sidebars. In this article, he explains how website design is the tip of the iceberg — it’s a way of life.

The Best Things in Life are Free — Or Dirt Cheap by Laurie
The Frugal Farmer is one of my favorite personal finance and frugal living blogs. Laurie captures the many complex issues of living near poverty, with a depression-era nod here and there. In this latest article, she talks about things. It can be powerful to realize that the best things in life don’t cost anything — or shouldn’t!

Hotel 22 by Elizabeth Lo
Occasionally, the New York Times chooses video over the written word to capture a story. Elizabeth Lo has captured a deeply saddening scene in San Francisco. There’s a 24-hour bus line that becomes an impromptu home and warm room for homeless people. Watch, listen, and gain an empathy for those struggling to survive.

What’s Your Most Prized Possession?

By Frugaling 29 Comments

Hello, roomie!

The windows were open, and I could smell the grass outside. It was green and sunny — not a cloud in the sky. A prototypical Colorado day followed me around, as I moved what little I owned into a small cubby, under a lofted mattress, and into a petite wooden desk.

It was move-in day for college — fall 2007.

I rolled out a single-bed mattress sheet, chintzy comforter, and single pillow cover. The mattress was an ocean blue, and perpetually felt uncomfortable. But it was my new home.

Somewhere in this process, I learned to live with less. I didn’t call it minimalism back then. It didn’t feel like minimalism.

Forced space? Mandated minimalism

I wasn’t given the option to live any other way in college. My closet only accepted a few shirts, shoes, pants, etc. My bedroom didn’t allow for larger mattresses. And my desk only had room for the basic necessities: pens, paper, and laptop.

After my first year of college, I moved into another residence hall to become an “RA” or resident assistant. I loved my position. It was and still is my favorite job. But even then, with a little more room, I was forced to stay minimal.

Now, minimalism doesn’t always mean being frugal. Despite my enclosures, I cycled through lots of things. There was a $1200 road bike (kept outside and then sold), a mini fridge (under the bed and then sold), electronics (a desktop computer and then sold), and more. For everything I bought, I sold something else — both to afford the new item and make space.

I was hardly frugal. I was mad with the need to consume away my problems, concerns, and stresses of school. No matter how much I purchased, the feelings remained.

Where I failed budgetarily, I seemed to succeed in minimalism. My room was still neat and tidy, and presentable to residents and their parents. I didn’t have a need for lots of stuff — nor could I put it anywhere.

While I wasn’t ready to change my spending habits until years later, an inclination towards minimalism was cemented. All it took was a forced restriction from many years of residence hall rooms to prevent the purchase of more than I needed. I developed an affinity for a clean, organized room. I didn’t need or want to have tons of things.

The losses hurt immensely

Another component pushed me towards minimalism: loss. In college I was exposed directly and indirectly to losses in life. Three of my grandparents passed away, three people died by suicide on campus that I knew, and I went through some pretty nasty breakups.

These losses encouraged me to look beyond the petty grievances and consumer comforts of society. What was important was the life of those around me, and spending time with those I cared about. Again, things weren’t as important as people.

During this period of tragedy, I realized how loss of material possessions didn’t matter. Suddenly, I stopped worrying about people stealing my stuff, things failing, and/or leaving my home unattended. Renters insurance seemed irrelevant and unnecessary. I had nothing “priceless.”

What’s going to fit in the trunk?

After college and the losses, I moved for graduate school. Again, it was a time of forced minimalism. I could only take what would fit in my Honda Civic coupe. And there was an added caveat, as my brother would be occupying the passenger seat.

To lighten the load, I listed items on Craigslist and asked friends if they needed odds and ends. Then, my brother and I filled the car with deconstructed IKEA furniture, clothing, and other household items. Our seats were forced upright — unable to recline — by the tightly packed vehicle.

Everything I owned fit into one tiny little car. It felt freeing, but frankly, all I could think about was the truly precious cargo: my brother. If everything else disappeared, let it not be him. That’s all that mattered/matters.

What really matters in life is…

I never sought to be a minimalist in my younger years, it found me. When I entered a small space and shared it with a roommate, I was forced to have less. When I lost loved ones, I was forced to reflect on what was most important. When my brother helped me move, I pictured what I would really need.

Stuff never came first.

Recently, I was grabbing a drink with someone and this question came up: “What would you grab if your apartment/house were on fire (excluding pets and humans)?”

I thought briefly about this question and almost cried. I couldn’t come up with anything. Nothing mattered beyond the human and pet connections in my life. Nothing. I feared the loss of… nothing.

My Low-Income Lifestyle

By Frugaling 57 Comments

Let’s start with my monthly salary

“I’d like to live as a poor man with lots of money.” —Pablo Picasso

I get paid $1545 after taxes on the 1st of every month. That’s my salary for working at the university, and being a graduate teaching assistant. Over 12 months that comes out to about $18,540.

For a single person, that places me about $7,000 above the federal poverty line of $11,490. You’d think I live a pretty comfortable, financially solvent life. And for the most part, I do.

I’m not in poverty. I never go hungry for long. I’m afforded incredible learning and writing opportunities. I can pay for shelter without any concerns. I’m lucky not to have any dependents or pets. I’m not on the brink of losing this consistency of life.

A tight monthly budget, but positive

Here’s what my monthly budget looks like:

Paycheck: $1,545 per month

Rent: -$550 (Housing in Iowa City is surprisingly expensive. This price bundles Internet/Cable, as well).
Utilities: -$50 (Varies month-to-month, but on average…).
Student fees/tuition: -$346 ($1251 per semester (x2), and then summer tuition (not covered) at $1650 for 3 credits — all divided by 12).
Food: -$400 (working to lower this, but in the past…)
Gas: -$5 (I don’t drive, but occasionally I give friends money to carpool with them)
Total costs: $1,351 per month

Partial budget: $194 per month

Notice that within this budget, entertainment, travel, and car expenses are not present. It’s difficult to approximate how much I spend on entertainment (going out to movies, playing pool, or bowling), but I’d say it averages about $10-20 per month.

Because I sold my car, I no longer have registration, titling, gas, insurance, maintenance, or car loan payments. Although, flights still happen and those cost about $300-400 round-trip. I fly about once or twice a year nowadays. Conservatively, that’s about $600 per year, or $50 per month. Subtracting these costs, and the following is my total budget:

Total budget: $124 per month.

If I stay within this budget and repeat it monthly, I can save about $1,488 per year. But that’s only if there are no other fees, expenses, or emergencies. For instance, my computer is hugely important to my business, job, and schooling; if that were to fail, I’d be in deep trouble. A single incident could wipe away my savings for a year.

Macro Money Photo — *Photo: Kevin Dooley/flickr*

Settling into the low-income lifestyle

While I might not be in poverty, I lead a low-income lifestyle with little room for error. Now that I’m no longer in massive student loan debt, my monthly budgets are real and accurate — not manipulated artificially by financial aid. When I run out of money, it’s gone — there’s no reserve ready. If something happens, emergency funding may be found using title loans or other secured lending options.

As I paid off my student loans and stopped withdrawing additional credit, I developed and settled into a low-income lifestyle. It’s one without exotic vacations, weekend getaways, cars, fancy dinners out, and the latest gadgets.

Now, I hold onto things longer, avoid purchases, and cook at home whenever possible. But it took me a while to adjust down — to slow down, really. I’ve said this before, but debt fostered an illusion of success that I felt compelled to uphold and continue. I wanted to show people that I could “afford” to treat, spend, and enjoy. Unfortunately, it was all a mirage. I was swimming in debt and stress.

Reflecting on the pros and cons

Pros

1. No more debt (or very little)

I no longer take out student loans to cushion my budget. Every month I do have revolving credit from regular purchases, but my balance is paid in full each statement period.

2. Support from family and friends, community

People check in with me more than ever about how I’m doing with my financial goals. Additionally, friends have increasingly begun to ask questions about how they, too, can save.

3. Greater exercise

Now that I sold my car, I take buses, walk, and/or ride my bike. Altogether, I’m getting way more exercise over owning and driving a car.

4. Empathy for lower-income and impoverished populations

Living closer to poverty and working with the homeless population has been an interesting combination. While I have great educational privilege, I do not have any income to show for these “achievements.” For now, this lack of money has helped me try to empathize with those less fortunate than I.

5. Reduced environmental impact

Despite America’s capitalistic ideals, we are doing the planet great harm with our consumption. Without any money or vehicle, I’ve drastically reduced my environmental contribution to greenhouse gases.

6. Eat healthier

To stay within my food budgets — and reduce them even further — I’ve been making more food at home and avoiding fast food alternatives.

7. Provides motivation for stories, articles

Living this low-income lifestyle provides great fodder for stories and reflection. Simply put, I learn every day from it. Comfort can sometimes make us complacent and inure us from others’ struggles. Stripping away income has provided deep insight into income problems in America.

8. Increased appreciation for what I do have

For everything I must sacrifice with my tight budget, there’s far more that I have, which I’m deeply grateful for. From health of friends, family, and myself to comfortable shelter, I am privileged.

Cons

1. Restricted travel

I used to travel all over the country. I loved seeing new places, eating different foods, and meeting new people. Instead, I’m mostly here in Iowa City. Traveling is too expensive — other than to see family a couple times per year.

2. Less time with family

I’ve added hours at work to receive more income. Between that additional time and aforementioned restricted travel, I don’t get to see my family as much as I’d like.

3. Awkward date conversations

While I’ve grown to embrace my low-income lifestyle, I can’t afford to go out with people too frequently. When I go out on dates, I’ve noticed that gender norms about who treats still seem to hold strong — the man is expected to step up.

4. Susceptible to emergencies/unexpected costs

If my computer stopped functioning or I had an injury, I may lose the budget surplus. This precarious balance threatens all my financial goals.

5. Psychological toll and nervousness

Being at this level of income takes a psychological toll. I’m working a large number of hours each week for relatively little pay. That’s stressful.

6. Society doesn’t seem to understand

Graduate students made great progress over the last few decades to have their educations paid for through assistantships and fellowships. But skyrocketing tuition has held back graduate funding. State and federal funding has consistently been in jeopardy.

7. Guilt when overspending

When I do spend money outside of the budgeted amounts, I feel tremendous worry and guilt. This emotional reaction sometimes stems the tide of purchases, but also makes me wish for days of financial security.

8. Tiring, test of willpower

Last, but certainly not least, it can be tiring. Following this strict of a budget takes an immense amount of willpower. Unfortunately, willpower is deeply tied to energy levels. With less energy, willpower tends to decline, as well.

$200 Food Budget Failure?

You spend how much on food every month?!

Individual and social pressure to make a change

This isn’t going to be easy, is it?