So I’ve got to hold my hands up and say that I’ve never been really good at budgeting. Cue hysterical laughter from anyone who knows me – I’m the ultimate ‘champagne lifestyle on a prosecco income’ kind of girl. Always have been. My mum was exactly the same…I always remember the twinkle she’d have in her eye when she showed off a new purchase, usually accompanied by the words, ah I was just looking but the devil got behind me and pushed! So I’m very familiar with that feeling, you know when there’s just too much month left at the end of the money..? But then hey, that’s what credit cards are for, right?
I’ve never gotten myself into a situation I haven’t been able to unpick, but lets just say my bank manager lives on his nerves, and I’ve probably contributed more than most to his permanently furrowed brow and sweaty disposition.
I get it though. I understand why I love to spend. When my boy was small and I scratched a living as a single mum, money was really tight and I had no choice but to be really careful. He never went without, although I often did, but that’s almost beside the point – I became really good at creative accounting. Robbing Peter to pay Paul…borrowing from the fuel budget to buy food, paying for fuel from the Christmas fund and reallocating everything back to square the circle as soon as my work bonus dropped in.
Somehow I always got by, but I never felt like I had it all figured out, I was just good at juggling that’s all. I got away with it. In more recent times, money hasn’t been quite so tight and my splurges have grown in tandem with my income but somehow I’ve continued to sail close to the wind and get away with it, often by the skin of my teeth before every now and again getting a reality check and properly pulling my belt in, spending virtually nothing until I’ve stepped back from the edge and got my financial ducks back in a row.
Thing is, my attitude towards my food budget has often followed a similar path. When I say food budget, I mean the amount of points or calories or whatever I’m counting on my diet of choice. Let me give you an example…lets imagine I’ve got 1200 calories a day…that’s what, 8400 a week? Woohoo!! Monday Tuesday Wednesday is open season, going great. Thursday and Friday there’s looking like a bit too much week left at the end of the calories but it’ll be ok, I can cut back a bit. Saturday and Sunday I can manage on a few leaves of spinach and half a walnut, it’s all good.
Tell you what, I’ll just borrow a few from next week’s calorie budget, if I even it out across the week I’ll hardly notice…Monday Tuesday go ok, Wednesday and Thursday it’s looking a bit sparse but it’s ok…I’ve still got half a bag of spinach and a slice of ham to see me over the weekend…and repeat. It doesn’t compute you know? It appears that I have to be stricter, more disciplined…more in control of my food budget than I’m used to being with my spending of anything else, ever.
Marry that with my food addiction issues, a tendency to binge and my asshole diet logic, and that boys and girls is called the perfect storm. Even now, from my pole position within the sweet spot, wholly committed to the cause and with the posse shoring up my backbone, faced with a buffet at work yesterday I was acutely conscious of the asshole’s twisted calculations going on in my head. How much of it could I get down my neck, if I just ring fenced a couple of points for supper…if I eat fifteen sausage rolls now I probably won’t be hungry later on anyway, right?
I overloaded on the buffet, and scraped through the rest of the day without blowing my points budget but I could have eaten a scabby donkey by the time my head hit the pillow last night…within plan, just, but not a sensible balanced disciplined choice of food spread throughout the day. Far the opposite…feast, then famine. So…where to spend, where to save and how to budget remains work in progress.
Unless it involves blowing my budget on a new handbag obviously…then the gloves are off 🙂
