Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Getting into this mess: we all have our own story

Most women seem to worry about the same two things: money and muffin tops. Now, this is putting it lightly, but who wouldn't want to be in a little better shape... both financially and physically! I will admit,  in my early twenties, I lost sight of both and found myself piling on debt and packing on pounds. We all have our own story of how "it" happened (weight gain, credit card debt, whatever your personal woes might be) So to start things off, here is my personal story.

As for fitness, I was never a fit kid. My parents fed me McDonald's, didn't make me play outside, never signed me up for sports or taught me about proper nutrition... I was a victim of too much autonomy as a child. These freedoms to make my own decisions led to my making bad decisions. I was a very pudgy child and it stifled my self-esteem. Weight became a source of constant anxiety and my chubby tummy didn't make very many friends, so I sunk further into my books.

And as for my lack of money-management skills... they also started at home. My mother, god rest her soul, could never manage money. She didn't understand a budget. I guess that's where I learned about finance. I recall hearing stories that when I was a toddler and mommy would tell me we couldn't buy something because we didn't have any money, I would reply, "but we have a credit card!" Yes, we did... and boy did it get us into trouble.

My parents filed for bankruptcy when I was in jr. high school. Talk about not being popular.... I had a popular cousin who wouldn't even acknowledge that we were related. We were, effectively, the black sheep among my wealthy relatives.... we were talked about by family, friends, people we thought loved us. My mother was very hurt by all the things her family said. She was embarrassed and she was angry. I just accepted cynicism at an early age. I began to understand. People are shallow. People like money. People liked our classic mustangs, our big house, my nice clothes.... Suddenly, at the tender age of 13, all of that was gone.

I sank further into seclusion. People who I thought were my friends wrote me off. I became depressed. People were mean to me. I had to learn to be poor. I'm not complaining. It was an excellent life experience. I'm not exaggerating when I say we were poor. Previously, my father was the manager of a huge plant and received huge paychecks.When we filed for bankruptcy, the company tanked very shortly after, leaving us bankrupt and without a real income. We rented a little house behind a local Wal-mart. My mom worked at the pizza place next door and my dad worked at the wal-mart. It was often we didn't have a working vehicle, so they would walk the half mile to work. We ate free pizza, almost all the time, it seemed. I was the only 15 year-old on the planet who hated pizza.

I remember for my 15th birthday party, we didn't have a working car, so my mom walked to the store to buy my party supplies. I can remember seeing her, as I got off the bus, walking home from the dollar store, toting bags full of dollar-store party supplies. It was a happy birthday. We were poor, but we had a lot of love between us. I had a cake, I had some friends, I had a family who loved me, a roof over my head and our bills were (mostly) getting paid.

Then, after my 15th birthday, I decided it was time for me to start contributing to the family income, so I got a job working for my mother at the pizza place. We had so much fun and I felt so grown up having my own job and my own income! I helped mom pay bills from time to time, when she struggled and we even had enough extra money to go shopping every now and then.... That's when I really started learning negative financial behavior.

Happy times and pleasant memories with mom began to be associated with shopping. Any time we had any extra money, we were at the Clinique counter, hitting up Victoria's Secret or cruising the sale racks at Macy's. We'd hit up target at midnight.... just because we were bored.

I graduated high school, a year early, at the age of 17 and began working full-time. I was 17 and bringing in more money than my dad (at the time) and LOVED the idea of having so much disposable income. I was planning on starting college the following year and intended to work in order to "save" money for college. However... college became a financial and physical nightmare, very quickly.....

Tomorrow: The freshman 15 and the freshman $15,000

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