A “Lifestyle Creep Reversal” Success Story
In 2021, according to my Wealth Planner, I spent just $7,281 on food—that means, for me alone, I was clocking $606/month on all groceries, takeout, and restaurant dining. This was actually a marked increase from my 2020 spending, when there were some months I kept my food spending below $300 total.
Dear reader, my ability to stretch groceries beyond their typical shelf life and sniff out a good happy hour deal used to be superhuman.
That’s why it might surprise you to learn that, in 2022, my husband and I spent a nauseating $25,779 on food for the two of us, or $12,889 each. That’s *checks calculator* an average of $2,148 per month, flushed down the toilet (...literally).
So how did things go so awry? Did we suddenly take up the habit of checking restaurants off the Michelin Star guide? Was it the discovery of a new food allergy that sent us to an overpriced health food store? Nope, it was something far less exciting: lifestyle creep.
Much like the way having an extra box of Oreos in the house almost guarantees you’re going to eat more Oreos, 2022 was the second year that I was earning what was—to me—a lot of money. And having access to more money meant I was…surprise!...more liable to get a little swipe-happy with my takeout budget.
We paid a local chef to prepare meals for us. I spent nearly $250 per week on Sakara Life for a few months. And when all else failed, my local Cheba Hut BLT sandwich ($22 after delivery and tip) came through for me.
So as I pored over our data in November ’22 in preparation for 2023, it was obvious which category needed some work: “We’ve got to get this under control,” I told my husband, pointing out the Corolla-sized sum we had spent.
Then we rewarded ourselves for our commitment to prudence in the future by going out for dumplings and boba tea, because old habits die hard.
Reversing lifestyle creep
It’s notoriously hard to taper back a budget category gone rogue.
Now that 12 months have passed since that unfortunate discovery, I’m pleased to say we managed to get a grip on it: We spent an average of $1,725 per month on food in 2023, or around $862 per person. (When adjusted for food inflation, the equivalent of my “$606 per month” 2021 food spending today would be $751.)
This will work out to around $5,000 in additional savings for the year, which might not be life-changing money in the grand scheme of things (though, who knows, given the magic of compounding)—but the real value of these changes took me by surprise.
My love of outsourcing is more complicated now
Sometimes the most financially “efficient” choice is worse in a way that’s hard to put your finger on. Even though outsourcing all of our meal prep to someone else might technically be the “optimal” choice (because it frees up the time and brain bandwidth for…more work), there’s something that feels so right about the very human ritual of feeding yourself. The top comment on this viral Reddit thread explains:
“[Outsourcing everything is] an easy trap to fall into as it is so very sensible: Why would you spend six hours cleaning (doing a chore you hate and doing it badly) if you could just work an additional hour and outsource that? So you hire a cleaner. And a cook, a personal shopper, an interior designer and a nanny.
But if you don’t watch out, all your little self worth eggs, so to speak, are kept in the same work basket—and, step by step, you start to live the life of a stranger. You eat the food of someone else, wear the clothes of not-you, in an apartment that might as well be a hotel room, with kids that are more attached to their nanny than to you. Your vacations are glamorous, but there's little connection to anyone or anything in them.
[...]
What I am getting at here is: Watch out. It may be easier and more worth it to develop an interest in cooking or join a sports club or a gym that you like. But also: Screw cleaning.”
Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. Sometimes you think more help is the answer, and other times you realize it’s the problem. Sometimes saving money is the wisest thing you could do and other times it’s the most foolish. Real life resists neat characterization and broad generalities. That’s the beauty of it. (And I might add: There’s no way to chronicle your thoughts online for years without changing your mind, and those who remain too on-message for years just aren’t being honest.)
I’m glad I experimented with outsourcing this area of my life. It showed me that I actually do value the tactile creativity that cooking provides, and most days, I need the countdown of the dinnertime clock to pull me away from my computer.
I wasted years telling myself I didn’t know how to cook, instead of just learning how to cook
And learning how to cook made me feel more self-sufficient. My process is relatively simple:
I shop at Whole Foods because I like its meat and produce sections, and ordering online for free pickup is fast, easy, and prevents throwing a bunch of random stuff in the cart. What can I say? I’m loath to admit it, but Jeff Bezos & Co. are good at the whole grocer thing. (I’m sorry, Henah.)
We eat dinner at home between five and six nights per week, and will get takeout on the “off” nights (which are often Fridays; when I was a kid, we always got pizza or Chinese food on Friday nights so the neural pathway associating “junk food” with “Friday” in my brain has long been calcified).
After working with a nutritionist and trainer this year to learn how to properly fuel myself (shout-out to Andrew and Kat of Alta Fit for Life!), I prioritize protein, fat, fiber, and vegetables wherever possible in my meals, and try to minimize simple carbohydrates and refined sugars.
Healthy snacking is expensive but worth the money. I’ve been eating a lot of cottage cheese (the “Good Culture” brand), Chomps meat sticks (can’t write that one with a straight face), and RXBars (the chocolate sea salt flavor) recently.
Right now, we’re loving a peanut chicken ramen dish (super cheap; here’s the original BudgetBytes recipe), a Korean ground beef dish with cucumber salad, cheeseburgers with butter lettuce for buns, and miso salmon on ginger rice.
Still, I’m a little nervous about what my 2023 spending will reveal to me
…because I have a feeling it’s going to lay bare the fact that I’ve allowed my fixed costs to creep higher, and those are a little harder to unwind than a greasy Five Guys habit.
Regardless, now I know I’m capable of reversing lifestyle creep…and that, in itself, is a bit of a relief.
