Let me tell you about the dumbest thing I’ve done this year
Okay, look. I get it. We’re all supposed to be about that yaşam tarzı günlük gelişim ipuçları life now. But honestly? Most of it’s garbage.
Take the ‘no spending’ challenge. You know the one. Some influencer on Instagram says she didn’t buy anything for 30 days except toilet paper and avocados, and suddenly everyone’s doing it. Well, I tried it. And it was a disaster.
It started last March. I was at a conference in Austin, sitting next to this woman named Lisa who was going on about how she saved $87 in a single week by not buying her usual iced coffee. $87! I mean, sure, that’s nice, but I spend more than that on my committment to public transportation. (Which, by the way, is a scam. But that’s another story.)
So I got home and told my roommate Marcus—let’s call him Marcus because his real name is weird and he’d kill me if I used it—about Lisa’s no-spending challenge. He said, “You should try it, man. You spend too much on dumb stuff.”
Which… yeah. Fair enough. I do buy a lot of dumb stuff. But here’s the thing: I like dumb stuff. I like my dumb stuff. And I was about to find out just how much.
Day 1: The Illusion of Control
First day, I was like, “This is easy.” I didn’t buy lunch. I packed a sandwich. Big deal. But then I realized I forgot to pack a snack. And suddenly, I was standing in the break room at work, staring at the vending machine like it held the secrets of the universe.
I didn’t cave. That day. But the craving was real. And it wasn’t just about food. It was about the little things—like the $3 chapstick I saw at the drugstore on my way home. I needed it. My lips were gonna crack off. But no. I had to suffer.
Day 7: The Breaking Point
By day seven, I was a mess. I hadn’t bought anything except groceries, and even then, I was completley stressing over every item in my cart. Was this organic kale really necessary? Probably not. But I needed something to make me feel like I wasn’t just surviving on air and regret.
Then, the unthinkable happened. My favorite hoodie—you know, the one I’ve had since college—developed a hole. A big one. Right in the middle of the back. I looked like I was being eaten by a black hole. I wanted to buy a new one so bad. But no. I had to endure.
I texted Marcus about it. He said, “Dude, just buy a hoodie. It’s $25. You’re being ridiculous.” But I couldn’t. I was too far in. I had to see this through.
Day 15: The Dark Side
By day 15, I was a different person. I was grumpy. I was irritable. I snapped at a coworker for no reason. (Sorry, Dave. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.)
And the worst part? I wasn’t even saving that much money. I mean, sure, I hadn’t bought a latte in two weeks, but I also hadn’t bought anything else. So what was the point?
I started researching. Turns out, the “no spending” challenge is just a way for people to feel superior about their financialy irresponsible habits. It’s not about saving money. It’s about control. And I was not here for it.
Day 30: The End (Finally)
When day 30 rolled around, I was ready. I had a list. A list of things I was gonna buy the second this stupid challenge was over. A hoodie. Chapstick. That kale. (Okay, maybe not the kale.)
And you know what? I did it. I bought all those things. And it felt amazing. I felt free. I felt like me again.
But the real lesson here? Don’t listen to influencers. They don’t know what they’re talking about. And if they do, they’re lying.
So here’s my advice: Spend money on the things that make you happy. Just don’t tell Marcus I said that.
Oh, and one more thing. If you’re gonna try this challenge, at least ammend the rules to include chapstick. Trust me on that one.
About the Author: Sarah Jenkins is a senior editor at WindshieldWipers.net. She has 20+ years of experience writing about lifestyle topics, and she’s not afraid to tell you when you’re wrong. You can find her on Twitter @SarahJenkinsWrites, where she tweets about bad TV, worse coffee, and the occasional deep thought about life.
