food

Budget: a plan specifying how resources, especially time or money, will be allocated or spent during a particular period (Encarta Dictionary).

I am not what you would call a good budgeter. It’s not that I’m a bad budgeter – unless by bad you mean entirely not budgeting then, yes, I am pretty horrible. The thing is I believe in budgets. I believe in living within my means. I believe in being resourceful and thrifty. In theory. When it comes to practice, well, let’s just leave it at that.

Naturally, I have an excuse. I didn’t say I have a reason – only an excuse. And here’s my justification that really is more of a rationalization but that is okay because someday I’m sure it will be my vindication: I hate math. I try to figure out a budget but when I look at numbers all I see is ^&*()*^%$##. And that makes no sense, right?

Since I know budgets are so important (and getting increasingly so) I have made certain rules. I don’t spend more than $3 per lunch at work. Why I decided $3 is my limit, I’m not sure. But I’m proud as punch when I find deals for $2.50. I feel just like an efficient budgeter.

I’m not going to lie. A $3.00 meal means making sacrifices. Like sometimes I forgo taste. Usually, however, I lose out on satiating my hunger. Those Lean Cuisines are always a bargain buy. But I have discovered the reason is because I can eat a whole cuisine in three bites. I have to refrain from licking the tray in an attempt to get just a little more.

I have found the two pizzas in a box fit inside my pseudo-budget quite nicely. One box can feed me for two lunches. Sort of. While I’m heating a pizza in the microwave my co-workers will comment how good it smells. Then the buzzer goes off and they look at my little round disc. That’s usually when I get asked, “Do you want some of my lunch?”

“No, thanks,” I say stoically. “This is just right.” But that’s a lie. Today I spent almost five minutes scraping off the melted cheese from the cardboard.