I was at the gym last night, faking my way through twenty-five minutes on a stationary bike in full view of my trainer in an attempt to prove I do cardio after our sessions (yeah right! Virgil--I lied to you! Then I went and ate a grilled cheese! Even though you said no carbs after 7 PM. Ha!) when I picked up the latest issue of Glamour. You know, cause there was no New Yorker or Financial Times avaiable(again an aside, I saw a guy I went out on a date with at the gym once in Birkenstocks, working out while reading a sweat-stained and pink copy of the Financial Times, and wearing a hemp necklace. Gee, I must have lost his number).
Yeah yeah, that's it. I picked up the US Weekly and the Glamour, well snatched them really, just as some trollop was about to grab them for the elliptical--and I was all, hey trollop, you don't need that, you'll actually be working out and won't be able to peruse the pages like me, who will just be sitting and pretending the machine is on 14 when it's really on 4 the whole time.
So I saw this word: recessionista. And I was all like, you go girl!
Just kidding, instead I was more...must we have a cute catch phrase for everything? Ugh, sound bites cloaked in grrl power and too clever puns need to go the way of Sex and the City mania. We all loved it, okay. We did. It was good. But it's not that pertinent anymore. It's not shocking.
It's so mass-marketed and de-individualized and in my mind so circa 1995 to say such a thing. The recession isn't cute. Not to me. But hey, I'm a freelancer with zero job security. So, you know, cutting back on my "usual iced latte" isn't really going to fix my stability here. Throw a dinner party instead of eating out with friends? Really Glamour? Cause Whole Foods is pretty expensive and the Key Foods on 4th Street? Well a guy killed two people there last year and there's a broken container of eggs that's needed a cleanup in aisle 5 for about 2 months running.
I'm not saying I don't need to save some money right now. I totally do (what's that brain? Hmmm? Get rid of the trainer? Quiet you! I'll stab you with a Q-tip if you keep talking like that). I just would like some sound advice that didn't make it sound fun. Cause saving isn't fun. It blows! And it's not cute! And really, I want the word fashionista, let alone recessionista, to die a swift and painless death.
Then again, were I fifteen, I'd probably think it was cute.*
Now instead, I direct you to some very good and well-written advice, unlike what you're currently reading on this site. Now that my birthday is over, I am a huge proponent of this. Also, I would assert that if any one of you is going to/forced into a group dinner at a restaurant soon, order the lobster. Like this writer, too many times have I gotten the salad in an effort to be frugal and ended up paying like everyone else because they wanted to "split the check"...
*It's kind of that one girl in Gossip Girl who they try to remind you is the "ethnic" one by dressing her in really bright clothes and confusing accessories (Indian beaded necklace, African bracelet and huge, gold earrings). Nevermind that she's got green eyes. No no, children, look over here, not over there!