That Woman... Or at Least a Wanna-Be

I've become that woman.

You know the kind. She haggles on prices, buys dented cans at discount grocery stores, and makes a lot of homemade stuff instead of buying it pre-made. She washes and re-uses everything she can. Her natural habitats include thrift stores and garage sales, and she scours back alleys on trash days to see if anyone is throwing out anything of use.

I am that woman.

It hit me yesterday evening after a full day of thrifty (ahem, cheap) activities. Wednesday morning is when I grocery shop, and I always do the bulk of my shopping at Aldi. If you know anything about Aldi, then you know it stands at the definitive definition of "ghetto." The shopping carts are tethered, meaning you have to pay a quarter to use one, bags are not provided, and everything is just so terrifically store brand that you may feel as if you've stumbled upon an alternate, Aldi-themed universe. Our local Aldi is on the edge of a semi-seedy part of town, meaning a security guard is on the premises at all times. It's a little rough around the edges.

Some people would avoid this place like the plague. I love everything about it.

I love how I can pile my cart high with everything we need for a week's worth of carefully planned meals and only owe the clerk $54. I love how Thelma, the cashier on duty every Wednesday morning, knows me and every other regular by name. I love buying off-brand and finding that it truly tastes the same as the name brand. I love using my canvas bags. I love finding strawberries for $.49/pound. I love feeling like I've somehow beat the system while simultaneously providing my family with plenty of good food.

After Aldi I made my way to Ultra Foods, perhaps our town's second cheapest grocery destination. In between I stopped at a church-sponsored thrift store, where every Wednesday is 10 cent day. Basically this means that lots of people from all walks of life are madly sifting through racks and racks of donated clothing which they then pay for with change. It's fantastic. I didn't find any clothing that worked for us, but I did find a mirror for above my piano ($4, and it only needs a quick coat of spray paint) and a pathetic little houseplant and a white dimpled porcelain egg cup ($1). I put those two together and--voila!--my pathetic little plant now has a lovely home.

I finally made it to Ultra Foods, where I fought through hordes of little old ladies (there are always hordes of little old ladies at Ultra) for the few things I couldn't find at Aldi. I deemed a few wanted items too expensive and, therefore, unnecessary, before finishing up my shopping and making it home with this week's groceries.

Later in the day the kids and I drove to the college, where I left them with Stephen before skipping over to our local consignment shop for a quick, kid-free visit. I don't go very regularly, maybe once every 2 months or so, and was overdue for a visit. And folks, quite frankly, I was shocked. They were asking a lot for used clothes and furniture. A lot.

I talked with Stephen about it afterward. I think that, since I've been frequenting garage sales so much lately, I've gotten used to garage sale prices. So I tend to balk at a price tag on a dress that says "$14.99" Especially if that dress is clearly used and starting to fray on the hem. And an outdoor wicker chair priced at $60? Forget about it. I found two that had been thrown out with the trash a couple weeks ago. A little elbow grease and a lot of love, and they'll be gorgeous. And much beefier than that spindly $60 chair, I might add.

The fact that I had become that woman hit me when I was telling Stephen all of this. I'm her. That's me. I happily sift through people's used junk at garage sales and thrift stores. I think consignment stores and Kroger are overpriced. I make my own baby food. I wash my plastic food storage bags and reuse them. I rearrange stuff in my house to make it look like I've redecorated. I look forward to gathering produce out of our family garden because it will mean cheaper grocery bills. I cloth diaper my baby because it saves us $150 a month. I'm starting to make my own cleaning products. I'm officially her.

Not that I'm a perfect example of that woman. I use the Swiffer (with disposable pads... I know, I know) because, quite honestly, nothing else gets up the massive amounts of hair our pets exude. I buy pre-made applesauce. Lots of it. I buy Starbucks' whole bean coffee at $12/pound because, frankly, nothing else tastes as good. Charlotte wears disposable diapers when we're out of the house... and when I forget the load of cloth diapers in the wash. Sometimes I still buy my kids a couple of clothing items brand-new at Target, although I never pay full price. (Something in my genetic makeup prevents this.) I pay $30 every month for a capable, intelligent woman to cut and style my hair. I don't buy organic (usually) because it's often outside the realms of my budget. In moments of desperation I pay $5 for a Little Caesar's pizza instead of making one from scratch myself.

I'm not a full granola girl. I'm just a wanna-be.

And this wanna-be currently has two nasty, seatless wicker chairs, one chewed up dining chair, and an ancient china cabinet, all rescued from the trash, taking up valuable space in her one car garage, awaiting their happy days of transformation into things of beauty. For now her husband just has to patiently wend his scooter around said pieces of trash every time he leaves for and comes home from work.

He is a patient man. I'm sure he's just chanting, "They were free. They were free" over and over to himself.