Frugality can Eat Me

Frugal is pretty much one of my least favorite words. It’s not even pretty. Fruuu-gal. Bleh. It sounds like the name of an ugly Germanic Troll whose job in life is to suck the fun out of everything. In action, it’s even less beautiful. There is a lot to be said for simplicity, but frugality is like simplicity’s evil stepsister. Simplicity allows for function and beauty, but frugality is all about denial and subsistence.

I mean, I appreciate being poor, because when one day I actually do have money (and unicorns roam the earth) I won’t waste it. I won’t stuff my home with useless things, like 47 soccer balls or every DVD at Target, although I may occasionally splurge on an antique typewriter. It’s called a lifestyle for a reason.

It’s nice to have nice things. This is America, after all. Land of the materialistic. Not that I’m living in the lap of luxury here by any means, but sometimes it’s all about the little things. I didn’t mind wearing Kmart shoes, or shopping the $5 rack at Old Navy (when I had money for shopping). I don’t mind buying generic sour cream. I don’t mind getting movies from the library instead of going to the movies. And I certainly don’t mind drinking at home instead of going out. But when it comes to my face, I don’t play.

I finally ran out of Clinique astringent. This is, as my friend Eli would say, a Greek tragedy. I think one of the reasons I never really had problems with my skin is because I’ve been using the Clinique skincare line religiously since I was 12. But I sooo do not have $25 for astringent right now (although amazingly I did have $25 for a pitcher of beer the other night… it’s about priorities people).

What I do have is a three year old half-empty bottle of witch hazel, left over from when my ex was convinced that we could make Clinique astringent at home for a fraction of the cost by merely reading the ingredients. He was wrong. By the way, frugal was one of his favorite words. Clearly, that match was not meant to last.

I’m all about DIY. I generally don’t buy anything I can make myself. But a superior product is a superior product. Does the witch hazel work better than Clinique? Hell no. Does it cost practically nothing? Sure does. That is frugality’s ugly little joke on us, and I for one, do not appreciate it.

However, desperate times call for desperate measures. So I’ll suck it up for now and make do. I just hope I’m not forced to make my own mouthwash next.