The Harvard Crimson

By most metrics, I wouldn’t describe myself as an excessive spender. Or even a little extravagant. On average, I probably only spend money about twice a week: once a week or two to feed the beast (read: my constant but often ravenous craving for jefe) and a little more often to grab a quick meal via Board Plus to take (not real money). or at one of the machines in the Science Center (Crimson Cash and therefore not real money).

Even though I don’t spend money often, I feel a little guilty every time I have to deal with the concept of money. Campus and The Square are so, so expensive — and I feel even more expensive after leaving Massachusetts for a minute — that every issue feels like an extravagance… even if that extravagance is a single granola bar. Plus, I feel like most of my expenses could be avoided with a little better planning (e.g. eating breakfast five minutes early). In the spirit of self-improvement and personal growth, I decided not to spend anything for a week. (Let’s ignore the fact that I was dared to do this informally in order to write an article; this was a completely personal decision, not made with the goal of cannibalizing my life for content.)

Honestly, my no-spend week felt shockingly mundane. (Again, I don’t actually spend that much in a week.) But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t challenging or that I didn’t miss the privilege of spending. The thrill of treating myself. The joy of holding my card up to a cash register. The fear of setting a tip percentage based on a two-minute interaction. The freedom of choice, of spontaneity.

Instead I had this doubtful The pleasure of eating the same packed lunch four days in a row—thank you, HUDS—a real throwback to freshman year, when I couldn’t rely on the Northwest Labs vending machines to meet 30 percent of my nutritional needs. I was also eternally grateful to my clubs and my part-time job for sustaining my weight with Frito-Lay products. I was thankful I passed because I had the foresight to leave just enough on my T-Pass to get me to the lab and back (twice!). (Yes, this article has now become an acknowledgments section. Do you have a problem with that?) I was a little less thrilled when Flyby (read: my own very hastily made decisions) forced me to go on a boba trip avoid my friends.

Minor inconveniences aside, the decision not to spend for a week wasn’t as inconvenient as I expected. It probably saved me a maximum of $12, most of which I spent within the following week out of pure spite. I guess it never hurts to control your spending, but there’s no point in thinking about it. Unless you make multiple shopping trips per month, I doubt your personal spending decisions are any less economical than purchasing the random textbooks on your curricula. Winning the No Spend Challenge shouldn’t come at the expense of the freedom to live your life the way you want. And if you change your spending habits too quickly, your credit card company could suspect fraud, and that sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.