WITH OR WITHOUT YOU

I haven't had a professional mani-pedi in exactly a year and one month now.

Yes, I know. Your blank stare reminds me that I really ought to stop making pronouncements like this, especially as there are millions out there in the world who would be happy to have, say, safe drinking water every day. There are people who face too many life-and-death issues to ever think about the way their nails look, much less care if they still have them.

But I think about my nails because I used to be at my local beauty salon every Sunday, where I'd get my weekly manicure and bi-weekly pedicure. Where I'd get a blow out so that I could start my week on an up note, with fabulous-looking hair. Whenever I'd get teased about my beauty extravagance, I'd reply it was a necessary expense because I didn't know how to do my nails or hair, no matter how hard I tried. Today is Sunday and my nails are not polished, nor is my hair otherworldly shiny and smooth.

There are many things I've had to do without because I'm in a prolonged period of transition in my life, when suddenly every dollar has to count for something. When I splurge on a grande white chocolate mocha (make that skinny, please) it had better be the way I like it. Please. If I'm feeling carefree enough to blow fifteen bucks on a movie, I'd be pissed if I didn't walk out of the theater with a smile on my face.

I used to buy only my preferred brands at the grocery store; now, I often choose what's on sale. Except in certain situations; for instance, I will only buy Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup over any generic brand, no matter the price difference. Some things, you see, are sacred -- plus I can only make my mom's macaroni casserole taste exactly the way it's supposed to if I use the brand she always did.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I wouldn't think twice about paying 25 dollars for lipstick. Now a makeup splurge consists of a purchase during a Buy One Get One Half Off promotion at the drugstore. I used to buy at least one "must-have" piece of clothing every week. As I sit here typing this I can't remember the last time I bought clothes for myself. Ah, wait -- I do. It was at the GAP a few months ago; I stood in the fitting room facing the mirror for ten minutes, trying to decide whether I should spend nine bucks on a tee shirt on sale at 30 percent off.

During times like this you discover just what you can live with and what you can live without. But you also realize what's most important to you. In my case, plush toilet paper. No matter how low my bank account balance is, I will buy only Charmin Ultra Soft or Quilted Northern Ultra Plush. Yes, even if it means dipping into my food budget. You've got to have standards, you know.

And even if all my clothes can now fit into one standard closet -- with room to spare -- I refuse to buy cheap clothing that will fall apart after a handful of washings. I'll save my money so that I can buy the one thing that I really want (or rather, that I really need). When I find my will breaking down as I'm dying to buy a REALLY cute pair of shoes on sale, I remind myself that I have a truckful of clothes and accessories back in storage in California that are begging to be worn again. All I have now are what I hauled with me from Los Angeles to Manila to Seattle; in other words, my essentials. It's not much, for sure, but for the first time in my adult life I know exactly what's in my closet before I open its doors.

Another thing I won't compromise on: a good haircut. I pay the same amount I used to -- but I get a cut only once every three or four months now, instead of two. I have to color my own hair, though, even if it means doing without the highlights that used to brighten up my face. And I won't write on cheap stationery. I still believe in writing thank you cards, and I take pleasure doing so on pretty paper.

I could make a short list of the things I won't do without. It used to be a much longer one, but eventually I discovered that life would go on without many of the things I once deemed as life's necessities. But you see, every dollar I could spend is a dollar I can save toward achieving the things I need to do to move myself forward. And even when I've gone past these days of essential penny-pinching, I suspect my list won't stretch out ever again. You may not know what you have until it's gone, but sometimes you learn that it really wasn't worth having in the first place.

Now excuse me while I attempt to give myself a manicure. It won't be pretty, I know -- but I suspect no one's really going to notice. Just as no one's noticed the frizz in my hair today. Or maybe because this is Seattle, where frizz is part of the landscape, like the rain.