My current bank balance is a number that should really only ever apply to shoe sizes. It seems that in the past three weeks, I have been a little unrealistic and reckless in my spending. Like most college students, I am still in that strange, transitory period where my parents support me, but I am expected to manage the money that they give me with the utmost fiscal responsibility. The reality, however, is that to my still-developing, underwhelming brain and intellect, $40 for a gel manicure and pedicure doesn’t really seem like all that much until it’s the end of the month and I realize that those $40 I spent on my nails, which no one besides me ever looks at, could go towards groceries, which are just a little something I need to survive and thrive. Here’s a news flash: a gel manicure will not keep you healthy, but fresh groceries sure will.

I would say that my siphon of spending is the result of the fact that I am not earning the money that I spend, because my far too generous parents award me a healthy monthly allowance, but that’s not true. I work two jobs alongside my rigorous studying schedule, which is a choice I made myself. I wanted to be busy and be accountable to something other than my sorority. I am a babysitter to the sweetest five-month-old baby. I work in my university’s theater department as a box office manager. They are two jobs that I love and cherish, and an added plus is that I make money while doing what I enjoy. But the minute I get that paycheck, I spend it. I get my greedy little hands on those bills and they are gone faster than a frat boy the morning after. I will impulsively go to Target and easily drop anywhere from fifty to one hundred dollars on things that, in reality, probably no one needs. Just because those groovy flare pants were on sale for $13.98 doesn’t mean they’re worth it, nor does it discredit the fact that they cost money that I could put towards things I need, like Tide pods.

The harshest reality of being a college student (aside from waking up with a crippling hangover) is that you are expected to be an adult and act as an adult while still being coddled by those with more life under their belt than you. This idea becomes especially prevalent when it comes to money. Yes, most parents are willing to help out financially and realize that it is hard to earn enough money to support yourself while taking classes all week and maintaining good grades, but they aren’t standing by your side as you spend $4.99 on a tub on dark chocolate peanut butter cups from Trader Joe’s and asking you, “Do you really need those?” Learning how to manage your money is a painful, terrifying lesson, but it’s one we all need to learn when we’re still young and have people to bail us out.

My stepfather has sat me down twice now and presented to me his guidelines for managing money, but it just still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. He is a wiz when it comes to budgeting. He and my mom have secured themselves a healthy nest egg because of their frugality, but their financial tendencies are just a trait I did not pick up on, unlike my affection for spicy food and my tendency to be unfairly sarcastic. Maybe the third time is the charm and the next time he reprimands me for spending $30 on a single meal at Whole Foods, it’ll really hit the message home, but the reality of my life is that I am just bad with money. I always pictured my 20s as a really glamorous period of my life in which I would have all this money to spend on cute clothing and delicious dinners, but yet, here I am, eating the remnants of a one-dollar box of spaghetti from Safeway for the fourth night in a row in the same pair of sweatpants I’ve had since junior year of high school.

College is a trap when it comes to spending. When my girlfriends ask if I’m down for a shopping trip, I don’t think about how spending ten bucks on a tank top at Forever 21 will affect me two weeks from now when I run out of K-Cups and desperately need more. When my big suggests a family night, the $6 I give her for pizza come back to bite me when I run out of shampoo and don’t have those six dollars to spend on something I actually need. Errand days where I intended to pick up a box of tampons and a carton of eggs turn into one hundred dollars spent on everything from kombucha probiotic drinks to organic avocados to another pair of tan gladiator sandals. I always fail to realize the repercussions of my spending until, like now, I am flat broke at the end of the month and literally banking on those 99 cent cans of tuna at Safeway.

For the record, it’s my own damn fault that I always find myself in this predicament. I just want to go to that Beyoncé concert and on that weekend trip to Los Angeles and not think about the fact that those choices might come back to haunt me when I need money to do laundry. My parents are endlessly supportive and would go to the ends of the earth to make sure that my life was the most comfortable possible, but by the same respect, I’ve got a few lessons yet to learn. I’m not trying to throw myself a pity party or ask you, dear reader, to anonymously send me money; I’m just trying to point out that life is full of lessons hat we have to learn the hard way. But if I set up a GoFundMe page and you would be willing to donate, please let me know.