"Money, Money, Money, Must Be Funny"

#253

(Title reference: ABBA song)

Past vs Present

I used to count every rupee. Literally. Budget groceries, skip unnecessary coffees, debate whether premium tomatoes were worth the three extra rupees. It was my default. Then I moved to Seattle, got a better job, and suddenly I was ordering $16 salads without flinching.

And I wondered how my relationship with money changed rather easily.

When Comfort Becomes Invisible

In "The Psychology of Money," Morgan Housel says: discipline isn't about willpower. It's about the constraints that force you to decide. I didn't choose frugality. Scarcity chose it for me. But somewhere in that forced discipline was something real—the habit of deciding.

I went from "I can't spend" to "I can spend." Sounds like freedom. Except it's not the same as choosing.

When you can't spend, every rupee has weight. You have to decide. But when you can spend, that forcing mechanism disappears. Suddenly you're just... spending.

My first Whole Foods trip made it clear. The sheer number of choices for every single thing! Rainbow carrots. Five types of tomatoes. Zero budget pressure forcing my hand. So I just picked things. No decision. No intentionality. Just abundance doing the thinking for me.

And it wasn't peer pressure that changed my spending. It was simpler than that. Rupees became dollars. Seattle's baseline cost of living is just higher than India's. A salad that costs 250-300 rupees here costs $16. That wasn't a choice. That's just geography.

But somewhere in that shift, I lost track of why I was spending. I thought I valued frugality. Turns out, I valued something else: the ability to choose.

What Actually Matters

Having more green bills doesn't mean you upgrade your entire life. Your apartment doesn't need to be fancier. Your wardrobe doesn't need a complete overhaul. Your baseline doesn't need to skyrocket.

But it does mean you get to add a little oomph. An extra coffee without guilt. A book you've been eyeing. A meal that tastes good. Small things. Within means. But chosen.

It's about treating yourself to what "sparks joy"— experiences that create memories. Things that matter.

I still practice minimalism. I'm just not obsessed anymore. Under $20-30? I don't shy away. Bigger purchases? I still research deeply, discuss with my husband, think it through. But I'm not torturing myself over every single decision anymore.

When I budget these days, I round up smaller amounts. It makes tracking more seamless.

The freedom isn't about having more. It's about getting to decide what matters to you—and actually investing in it.

That's the self-care part. Not the deprivation. The choosing.