a year without

Today my 17 year old and I are going without. Without shoes, that is. We have all the luxuries that middle America brings — an expensive roof over our head, 24/7 access to water, electricity, Internet, you name it. Hell, we can even hop in our gas guzzling Charger and drive the .5 miles to Taco Bell at 3am if we really feel like it.

But today, we’re going without shoes. Uno (the 17-year-old) came up with this plan while perusing his latest shoe desire on the Toms website. He’s currently in his first period class, and I’m wondering when the school will call to tell me of his delinquent behavior. As an adult, I’m slightly less likely to be chastised for my choices. Slightly.

I’ve wanted to start a blog for about a month now, since Mr. Shoes (my darling husband, of course) and I decided to sell (almost) everything we own, and leave our 2500 square foot expensive roof for a much less expensive yet cramped 900 square foot apartment. There are several reasons for the move, but the primary one is simple: save $20,000 in one year.

At 36 years old — God, how is it possible I am closer to 40 than 30… or 20?? Anyway, at 36-freaking-years-old, I have a long history of bad choices and the credit to prove it. Between the two of us, we have virtually no savings to speak of. Mr. Shoes likes to joke that we are always one crisis away from homelessness. Some joke.

So, here we are. Almost 40, bad credit, no savings. It’s time to grow up.

In the next year, many sacrifices will be made. Granted, sacrifice is a relative term. For me, this means no haircuts, no rockin’ awesome hair color, no MAC (how will I LIVE?) and no new shoes. Regardless of how kickass the sale is.

It means I sold 80% of my books and movies, every piece of furniture we won’t absolutely need, and all the knick-knacks I like to fill my space with. It means my sacrifice is different than yours, different than people around the globe. But that’s why this is my blog, not yours.

For a committed shopaholic, this will be an interesting ride.