The Ghettofabulous Broke Diaries:
One woman's journey through a frugal lifestyle...



WHAT TO DO...
In the beginning, there was money...
When you don't have any money, the world seems like a smaller place. Suddenly, things that you took for granted become luxuries. If you think I'm being a little dramatic…well, I am. But I'm also speaking from months of experience, where I could barely afford to buy more than a strawberry Italian soda from Second Cup. My financial situation wasn't as bad as the actual Broke Diaries, but I do have some broke stories to share.

My spending habits have always been exceedingly gluttonous. Basically, I couldn't afford my lifestyle. I knew that the best solution would be to cut back, but I couldn't do it. The next option was to make more money, but that didn't work out. When I worked two jobs and indeed had more money, my lifestyle just became more extravagant to offset the change in income. I took a lot of cabs, ate out constantly, and drank like a fish. I also karaoked whenever I could.

And then there was none...
Out went cab rides, as well as eating out. Drinking was cut back by more than two-thirds, and karaoke had to be erased from my vocabulary (for a while, at least). I went without conditioner for a month and put off dying my hair - which was not a pretty sight. My lip pencil was sharpened to a knob, but still I kept using it, and getting cut by the splinters in the process. I made Michelle print documents for me, as I had to conserve my ink for the upcoming school semester. The Blue Night bus became my best friend. There were many nights where I would board a bus full of drunken teenagers who tried to smoke out the window. I can look back and laugh at things like this now, but back then I was quite traumatized.

Eventually, you adjust and live accordingly. For instance, you suddenly have an appreciation for those little mickeys they sell at liquor stores. Why buy those big bottles when you can carry those little ones around in your purse, for those special moments? Okay, I wouldn't recommend doing this, but I have and lived to tell about it. They cost about $3.50 at the store, and last you through two or three drinks. So really, it's a saving of about $7.00. Perfect for those lazy afternoons that need a little pep.

And then there was hitting rock bottom...
Then there was the night I was stranded in Michelle's neighbourhood. I had no idea where I was, and there were no buses running there. I knew of a 24-hour bus stop nearby, but there was the problem of getting across the highway to reach that stop. There had to be a way to bypass it - how else would pedestrians get around? I walked for an hour straight, and with my keen sense of direction, ended up at the exact same spot. I asked an elderly woman for help, and she looked at me as if I wanted to rob her. She was no help. Before curling up into the fetal position and bawling, I spotted a lone figure walking down the desolate street. I figured I had nothing to lose by asking for directions. If he wanted to rob me, he'd be in for a sad surprise.

It turns out that he was lost too. And thus began the Great Highway Crossing of '02. Now, those barricades they place on the roads are there for a reason. Not only do they divide the street, but they are also designed to deter people from crossing it. Our first obstacle was a fence, about half an inch shorter than me. Did I mention that the last time I climbed a fence was in ninth grade gym class? And also that that fence didn't have spikes at the top and links the size of a tennis ball? He scaled the fence easily enough, but when it came to me, I couldn't quite do it. Also, I wasn't very graceful about it. I tried it three more times before giving up. "Leave without me!" I cried. "Spare yourself and go home!" Luckily, he ignored my bout of insanity and climbed back to my side. What transpired next was an awkward attempt to get my butt over the fence. In the process, I'm sure that he copped a feel, but I felt more grateful that I was actually getting somewhere closer to home. He told me to jump off the fence. I laughed at that prospect, and eventually made my way around (and yes, I did have an accident with the spikes at the top, but nothing that would kill my chances of having children).

From then on, it was pretty smooth sailing. We had to walk on the highway for a bit - I want to stop here to give a shout-out to all those drivers that honked at us and let us know that we shouldn't have been walking on the highway…without you, we would still be walking there to this day. It was also at this point that we introduced ourselves. We had gotten more intimate than most couples on third dates (what with the aerobic fence climbing) and yet we didn't know each other's names. A couple of steep hills and short roadblocks later, we were finally at the bus stop.

Little did we know that the bus didn't actually run at that particular stop. We sat there for about forty-five minutes before someone kindly informed us that we had to walk south a couple of stops. Besides the fact that it was late and I felt like I had run a marathon, I had some good company, so I didn't mind so much. He also had a bottle of whiskey, which didn't go down smoothly, but hit the spot on such a strange night (I don't normally take drinks from strangers, but that particular night called for some alcohol, no?).

Then, I found out that he actually had money on him, and a fair amount too. "Why didn't you leave my ass back at the fence?" I cried. "I would have left you if I had that much of cash!" Anyway, my money and his amounted to a split cab ride home. Much love goes to Simon for not leaving my ass back at the fence, and for putting up with my complaining all night long. The next day, I called Michelle and told her that her neighbourhood sucked. (Just kidding Michelle, it rocks!)

My other broke adventures include reselling my books at the university bookstore for some measly change (it's way better to sell back to students - the bookstore only pays out about 40% of the retail price), hitting Popeye's specifically for their two-can-dine deal, selling blood, living on Vietnamese food week after week, cleaning people's houses naked, and using paper towels instead of actual blotting powder. Okay, so the last one I'd still do with a job.

And then there was money again...
Even though I can now take cabs, eat out more often, and buy a new lip pencil, I'm still in ghetto mode. I have even caught myself saying, "There's an entrance fee? Forget that! Is there free food?" You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of the girl.

And so the GhettoFabulous Broke Diaries are to be continued... ¤ C.Ho.