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Why I Kept A Frugal Food Budget

Frugal Food Budget at Le Pain Quotidien Photo — *My grandfather and I sharing a not-so-frugal, but delicious, meal after 6 months of meticulous calculating.*

In January, I decided to engage in the most cliche thing ever: I created a New Year’s resolution. December had been jam-packed with semester finals, travel, and holidays. Throughout that busy time, I wanted to track my food expenditures. It was an expensive month, as food expenses climbed well over $400.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the first $400-$500 month for food. I was a notorious spender in this category. It was a weak point. With the rationale that “everyone needs to eat and spend money to do so,” I let myself off the hook. I wondered, “If I spend $7+ on a Subway sandwich, how much could I really save by making my own lunch?” I didn’t think I could save that much.

Something clicked over the new year: I suddenly knew I could do better. Moreover, that savings could be redirected towards investments and savings. With December’s balance calculated, I set an extreme goal for January: $200. That number would include food and drinks — anywhere, everywhere, and for any reason (e.g., even birthday parties and celebrations).

I reported my results and efforts for six months. Each month was less than December, and I got exceptionally close to $200 in February. I cut back on meats, dairy products, and consumed more rice than ever. After that restrictive month, I realized that $200 might be more ambitious than I originally thought. It was challenging to publicly share that “failure” to reach a stated goal. I’m not one to leave a goal unaccomplished. But in trying so hard to reach this number, I briefly lost the original purpose.

A more frugal food budget was never supposed to be painful. I never intended to eat only basic staples mixed with a few veggies for multiple meals a day. Regrettably, that’s what happened. While I was getting closer to the $200 number, I was definitely feeling the hurt of this lifestyle change.

Cutting back on my food spending was to live simpler, save more, and reflect on the change. Both at the start and now, as I write today, I can realize these goals. But I needed to get some perspective before I could actually analyze what I learned.

Before I committed to reducing my budget, I had little appreciation for how much each swipe cost my budget. A $7 sandwich, $8 burrito, and $15 dinner with tip all seemed strangely equal. It was sustenance. Why care about one purchase?

Meticulously tracking my spending and putting the receipts into spreadsheets changed this thinking. I could (with terror) see the cost. While individual purchases had been necessary, the total spent was alarming. Creating a formal food budget and tracking balances allowed me to feel, see, and read that disconnect. It was a game changer.

See, when I started this journey, I had no appreciation for the “feel” of a food budget. How many sandwiches can I get and still maintain my budget? How much fruit can I buy? Can I afford the sparkling juice? After I had calculated these totals, I realized what, for instance, a $250 food budget actually looked like.

Today, I can self-monitor and reasonably predict my monthly total. I know what I can and can’t buy — what will regularly put me over the edge. It took three stages to get here:

1. Track a balance for a month
2. Create and live with a new budget for 6 months
3. Pause and reflect on the new balance

Those three stages can be applied to any budget desired, but were 100% necessary for food. It took time to actually get the feel. I thought it would be easier, but old habits die hard. I’d recommend that if you want to revolutionize a budget that you carefully track yours for about 6 months, as well.

For your entertainment, I’ve conducted an interview with myself to reflect on the process:

Interviewer: Hi Sam, thanks for joining me today to talk about your frugal food budget!

Sam: Happy to be here.

Interviewer: So, did you ever reach $200?

Sam: Sadly, no. I got really close in February. Otherwise, I was able to keep it under $300 quite regularly.

Interviewer: What was the hardest thing about cutting back?

Sam: Eating out feels convenient. Heck, oftentimes it is convenient. And I love trying new restaurants! There is a powerful trade off though, and that comes in sacrificed dollars, and ultimately, more time spent working to afford a larger food budget. That’s the vicious cycle I want to avoid. I’d rather not have the convenience of eating out with additional work. It’s important to build relaxation into my schedule, and if I eat out too much I actually hamper that effort.

Interviewer: Interesting!

Sam: Very.

Interviewer: Could you do better next month?

Sam: You know, that’s a good question. Just because I’ve decided to end the regular reporting of my food budget doesn’t mean I’ve ended my own efforts to save. Frankly, I’m interested in living well, under $300 per month, and being able to have the freedom to go on the occasional date and get a drink with friends, while still saving about $200 more per month than I used to.

Interviewer: Yeah, but if you’re spending nearly $300 on food some months, are you really frugal?

Sam: Ugh, I hate that question. I’m a work-in-progress. I’m hardly perfect. Frugality is a philosophical journey, and in my mind, has no destination. There is no final frugal line or defining organization that sets standards. You are your own standard. I believe I’m far more frugal now, but could always do more to save. Frugality comes in the lack of contentedness. I don’t want to accept that I’m financially set; rather, I’m eternally under construction.

Interviewer: Phew! Thanks for spending the time today, Sam.

Sam: My pleasure.

Congregation Without Consumption

By Frugaling 31 Comments

I often felt lonely growing up. Sometimes it was by choice, sometimes by consequence. Whatever the case, that aching feeling would hit me – I’d want to move, do, fix, and solve the discomfort. Isolation and loneliness prompted me to go out – to frequent places with people.

Unfortunately, people tend to congregate at locations of consumption. You can see it in families taking weekend trips to the mall to walk, eat, and shop. The window shopping and actual shopping make people feel purposeful.

When I’d be down and out, I’d find comfort in the smiling faces of store clerks and fellow shoppers. People were happy to be buying and selling products. The light shined brighter. Smells of candied nuts and pretzels wafted around. And hip music reverberated through the stores. I felt happy for a moment.

From the outside, it seemed like everyone won. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Conspicuous shopping and browsing can lead to debt, overdue bills, and lessening credit scores (not to mention great environmental harm). There’s a psychological cost to this repetitive reinforcement, as well. The visit makes us happy, and we want to return to duplicate and relive these positive feelings. The purpose is in the purchase. Without the purchase, who are we? Without the mall, where does positivity stem from?

When I first started saving money and becoming more frugal, I didn’t notice my removal from society’s consumptive catches. There was this new purpose to live within my means. That seemed to be enough. I was able to share my journey on Frugaling, too. But over time, I started to feel this lump in my throat. The social outings to spend money at restaurants, go to movies, and frequent trips were severely reduced.

That feeling of loneliness crept back in. With each effort to save, came losses in social situations. As much as I tried to build in free time with friends that was actually free, I realized that it was challenging.

We all want to consume and spend and travel and adventure. There’s excitement and energy in all these activities, but too frequently, there are direct costs associated.

We each need to establish a balance in our lives where we are spending within our means, while achieving our needed social connection with others. To sacrifice the latter may mean suffering greatly and failing to maintain long-term frugality. Suddenly, the endeavor is unintentionally punishing.

To combat and bolster our social support, connection, and integration, we must embrace congregation without consumption. These are the moments circled around a board game, watching a movie at home, cooking at home, biking, running, swimming, etc.

If frugality is a philosophy and way of life, we must define our methods for staying sane and healthy. It should never stand in the way of healthy psychological functioning and connection with others. To say “no” to social gatherings that need money is a tremendous way to save, but costs something more than dollars and cents. There’s a social factor that cuts deep – for both parties involved.

Staying connected and frugal requires proactive planning. The initiative is on you – for better and for worse – to suggest events without a price tag. We are all in this together, but someone needs to start the trend. Longer term, our society must find new homes for purpose and energy with others – something beyond the brightly lit walls of malls.

Now, the important question becomes, Where will you spend your weekend?

How Do Relationships Influence Frugality?

By Frugaling 9 Comments

I want to spend this week talking about relationships. Why? Well, because money and relationships often go hand in hand, whether we like it or not. Income, wealth, and spending issues are one of the most common concerns for partners.

When I founded Frugaling, I was in a relationship and felt this pressure — internal and external — to change my habits and reduce my spending. What happened next still feels like a dream. In thinking about that process of becoming more financially solvent, I decided to write a little article for one of my favorite personal finance websites, Frugalwoods.com.

Today, you’ll find my thoughts on being single, staying frugal, and thinking about whether a relationship is right for me… financially. Then, on Wednesday, the author of that site will be publishing her own article here on Frugaling! She’ll share her thoughts on love, relationships, and the ability to be even more frugal when married.

The two of us come from different backgrounds, genders, demographics, and are in opposite sides of the relationship coin. Despite these differences, we both came to frugal living. I can’t wait to hear from you all about your journey and how relationships help/hinder your ability to save!

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.

Why I Kept A Frugal Food Budget

How Do Relationships Influence Frugality?

My Low-Income Lifestyle

Let’s start with my monthly salary