Cheap is the New Wealthy

I love a recession!

Yes, I know that “technically” the recession is over, but I also know that jobs are scarce and gas prices inch up every hour and people are nervous. And they’re finally living life the way I do, every day. Recession or no.

It hit me right after the start of this last recession. Dr. Phil announced he was doing a special show on “How to Survive a Recession”. I was so excited; I got pen and paper and dutifully sat on the couch, ready to take notes.

“You want to turn your thermostat down.” Ok, I already did that, down to the nippy temperature of 60 during the day, 66 when kids were home, 58 at night. Check.

“Buy groceries on sale.” Ok, ditto for that.

“Pay off your credit card bills.” “Prepare meals at home instead of eating fast food.” “Use coupons.” Check, check and check.

And then I realized: I already live my life as if every day was a recession.

This was a revelation to me. I knew we lived cheaply, I just had no idea how out of the norm we were.

And now, thanks to the recession, everyone else is living like me! Yipee!! I’m seeing more of my neighbors at the further-away grocery store, the one that’s thirty percent less expensive than the three in or near my town. The one that people used to say to me “You go all the way over there for groceries? Isn’t that kind of far?” (Actually, no, it just takes a few minutes longer than getting to the other places.) People are bragging about how they’re keeping their thermostats low (I still think I’ve got them beat there), and how they’re “only” taking one vacation a year.

So yes, I love a recession. It means everyone else is finally lowering their standard of living, to almost as low as mine. And I welcome the company.

Changing

It's official: I'm through menopause. And I have so not enjoyed the ride. The stupid hot flashes -- sweater off, sweater on, sweater off, sweater on, repeat over and over until everyone around you thinks you're insane. The night sweats that soak the sheets, when you were freezing just hours before. The sleeping for a mere four hours only to have your eyes snap open, leaving you tossing and turning and watching the clock, until you fall heavily back to sleep -- ten minutes before the alarm rings.

Oh, yeah, it's been a blast.

But now that I'm on the other side, there's yet another joyous side effect of going through the change: I can't seem to get rid of a single ounce on my body. Seriously, it's as if my body won't let go of a single calorie that crosses my lips. "Hell, no, we won't give it up without a fight!" my hips seem to say, while my belly chimes in with, "We're loving the extra padding here!" and my thighs just sigh in agreement.

WTF?!? Used to be I could cut a few calories here or there, and a pound or two would slowly slip away. Sure, I'd go up and down a bit, but not by much. And I knew, if I were really desperate, I could cut out all chocolate (I know, sacrilege) for a week or two, and see results.

But now I stand on the scale, and the numbers only move in one direction, and it ain't down. Worse, I can't seem to stop myself from continuing to snack and eat and nibble and munch, even though I KNOW the outcome. The chips call my name from the pantry; the cookies coo from the shelf. Even as I diligently write everything down that makes its way to my stomach, my hand is reaching for a piece of chocolate.

I'm so not loving this side effect of never having to bleed from my vagina again. It better be worth it.