By Bryce
Groceries are ridiculous right now. I picked up a pack of paper towels the other day, saw the price $13, and just stared at it like it insulted me personally. It’s not just paper towels. It’s bacon. Juice. Eggs. Everything. By the time I make it to checkout, I’m giving the cart a pep talk: “Please don’t cross $100.”
Here’s the thing: I didn’t grow up broke. We had what we needed. My mom made sure of that.
But I also wasn’t buying groceries, paying utilities, covering daycare, and juggling life solo back then either.
Now it’s different. I’m a single parent. I’m the one figuring out how to make it all stretch. I’m doing the math in real time.
If I buy this, what do I shift? If I spend here, where do I pull back?
And lately, I’ve caught myself wondering: Am I being cheap? Or just doing what I gotta do? Would this even bother me if I had more? Would I still be measuring out how many rolls come in the pack, or asking myself if I really need the good detergent? Or is that just life when you’re budgeting for two, in a city that doesn’t care if you’re tired or tapped out?
I’ve had people joke. You’re always counting coins,” “You stay in budget mode.” And maybe I do. But it’s not because I’m scared. It’s because I’m aware.
I’m aware that this ain’t just about me anymore. I’ve got a kid who’s constantly growing, constantly hungry, and constantly looking at me like I’ve got all the answers.
So nah, I’m not cheap. I just don’t have the luxury of shopping like life is light. Because right now, life is loud. Expensive. Relentless. And I’m doing the best I can to keep us both fed and covered, even if it means side-eyeing a pack of paper towels like it’s a luxury item.