As you well f*cking know by now, we here at Betches consider it our duty in life to rip Refinery29’s Money Diaries a new one. Seriously. That’s in our official company policy. Look, if they’re going to continue to “break down barriers” and promote the struggles of Olivia Jade full-time trust fund babies and part-time influencers, then I’m going to continue to anonymously blast them about it on the internet, and I won’t apologize for that! We’ve already discussed how it costs a chill $2k to even breath in cities like New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Portland, and now we’re financially breaking down everyone’s favorite topic: moving.

If you’re anything like me, then moving feels like the undocumented 10th circle of Hell, right after that one about treachery. And I should know, because in the past 4 years I’ve moved four times, two of which involved moving to a different state. Yep, you heard right: FOUR TIMES. If you’re wondering where my mental stability is after said moves, let’s just say I’d rank it somewhere between Khloé Kardashian aggressively screaming “LIAR!” into her phone in the latest trailer for KUWTK and Britney Spears shaving her entire head in 2007. I hope that paints a clear enough picture for you. I think we can all agree that moving is not fun, and it’s hella expensive—especially if you’re moving in or to a big city. And since I’ve done both, and there’s nothing in this world I love more than b*tching about my own life, I thought I’d document my struggles for your viewing pleasure. For the sake of time (and your sanity) I’m only going to talk about the two moves that involved moving in and out of New York City, as those were the most expensive moves by far. You’re welcome.

1st Move: NC → NYC

When I first graduated from college, I realized that just because I had a degree in creative writing and listed “senior send-off T-shirt designer” for my for my sorority as my greatest career accomplishment, didn’t mean anyone would actually hire me. Which felt—and still feels, quite frankly—extremely unfair. Not everyone can come up with a slogan as catchy as “adios bitch-achos” and convince 100 something white girls to all agree on it, okay!!

I spent the first 9 months after graduation doing literally any freelance opportunity I could to pad my resume while living at home and applying for more full-time positions. The February after graduation, I landed a job in Manhattan as a publicity assistant for a major book publishing house and essentially had to move my entire life from North Carolina to NYC in a shorter amount of time than Forever21’s return policy—and you know that sh*t is a quick turn around.

The Basics

Occupation at time of move: Book Publicist/Aspiring Writer/Actively Trying To Marry Rich
Industry: Anything that would accept my creative writing degree
Age at time of move: 23
Location: New York, NY
Salary: $35,500
Moving Stipend: Lol. Companies actually do this? Just because I was hired at one of the largest publishing houses in the world doesn’t mean they would give up any of the billions of dollars they make a year to help my entry-level ass move. In fact, I was only given three weeks to move from North Carolina to New York City, find a place to live that didn’t end up with me a) living in a cardboard box or b) becoming the plotline of a Law & Order episode, and the only help they gave me was to “accidentally” change my start date to one week earlier.
Savings at time of move: $3K

What I Paid For During The Move

Moving truck rental: $900
Gas, toll fees, etc.: $500-$1,000

(I’m going to be completely transparent here, I was lucky enough to have my parents help me out a ton for this move. At the time, I was freelancing and only had about $3K in my savings, which, as you’ll see below, was almost entirely what was needed to pay upfront for my apartment. I know not everyone is lucky enough to have their parents help them move or help them fund said move, so keep this in mind if you’re having to move completely on your own.)

Apartment fees (deposit, 1st/last month rent, etc.): $2,850. My first apartment in New York was located in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn but, like, before Bed-Stuy had coffee shops that served avocado toast. I distinctly remember a cab driver making a crude comparison to Bed-Stuy and a war-torn country and then telling me to pack up my things and “run while I still can.” And they say New Yorkers aren’t friendly or helpful! My rent for one bedroom in a four bedroom apartment was $950 a month, and I had to put down essentially three month’s rent up front with first, last, and security deposits. This is not uncommon in the New York area, which was a shock to me. This was practically everything I had in my savings account, and I hadn’t even gotten the keys to my goddamn apartment yet.

^^Actual footage of me during my move

Furniture: $800. Fun fact: even if you’ve accumulated furniture throughout your life, don’t think you can bring it to this trash city, because odds are it won’t fit in the 300 cubic square feet your landlord is pretending is a bedroom. When I moved to New York I had to buy all new furniture because the bed and dresser I’d had from home wouldn’t physically fit in the limited space I had. Most of the furniture I bought was from Amazon and Goodwill so, like, cheap finds and it STILL cost me close to $800 when all was said and done.

Random Moving Costs: Can you put a price on your sanity? What about the Metrocard I had to buy before getting my first paycheck? Let’s just round this number $300 and call it a day.

Total Cost of Move: $6K. That’s right. SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS, and that’s mostly for rent and actually transporting my sh*t from point A to point B. That doesn’t even include any of the fun stuff like room decor or the boxed wine I needed to dull the sting of my savings being set on metaphorical fire. 

2nd Move: NYC → NC

Cut to 3 ½ years later and I moved back to North Carolina from NYC. I won’t go into the details as to why I moved—you can read my sappy, wine-induced Instagram post for that—but I’ll just say it was time for a change. I’d been applying for jobs in North Carolina while I was still living in the city, but I actually ended up moving before I had another job lined up. This was a huge risk and, as my mother so sweetly told me several times during the course of this move, I could have really screwed myself. That said, I made saving a major priority before going into this move. I didn’t want to have to rely on my parents again, and I knew I could possibly be without income for a few months. See? I’m learning! And they say you can’t teach a basic betch new tricks. 

The Basics

Occupation at time of move: Just Actively Trying To Marry Rich (Kidding! I was also freelance writer, if you can call aggressively pitching Riverdale related content to any outlet that would listen “writing.”)
Industry: Parental pity
Age at time of move: 26
Location: Greensboro, North Carolina
Salary: $300-$1,000 depending on amount of freelance gigs I could hustle each month.
Moving Stipend: Do the Cheetos my dad sprung for at the 7-11 in bumblef*ck Virginia count? No?
Savings at time of move: $10K

What I Paid For During The Move

Moving truck rental: $900
Gas, tolls, etc.: $500-$1,000

Apartment fees (deposit, 1st/last month rent, etc.):  $100. When I left the city I moved back in with my parents *shudders* but this also meant that I was living rent-free for a bit. I did owe $100 to my Brooklyn landlord for “miscellaneous damages” to the apartment, despite the fact that he could not name (or take photographic evidence of) one actual damage that he charged me for. K.

Furniture: +$200. I actually made money here because I was able to sell back some of my tiny-ass furniture I bought for NYC that I would no longer need once I moved to a city that wasn’t garbage. Blessings. What I couldn’t sell I left on the street to be fought over by my neighbors like the last weapon in The Hunger Games. 

Random Moving Costs: $500. I may or may not have locked my keys and cell phone in my apartment mid-move. To set the mood for you, I spent the last two days before my move saying goodbye to my life in the city by binge drinking for 48 hours straight, as one does. My dad flew in approximately 12 hours before we were set to drive 13 hours back to North Carolina with all my sh*t and found me curled in the fetal position in my dog’s bed amongst piles of trash bags full of clothes. In the remaining 12 hours before the move, we managed to pack up the rest of my stuff, get dinner, see a show, and get approximately 4 hours of sleep before waking up at the crack of dawn to pack the truck. So, to summarize: I was severely hungover, exhausted, and in the midst of heavy lifting when I found out I’d locked my keys and cell phone in the apartment halfway through packing up the car. I think this is perhaps the best representation for my state of mind upon realizing what I’d done:

Long story short, after attempting to break into my own damn apartment, having my neighbors threaten to call the cops for said break-in, begging to use a random person’s cellphone to call my landlord, trying to call my landlord and crying when I realized it was a Jewish holiday and he would perhaps get back to me in the next 1-2 weeks, and finally using my dad’s apple watch to call my mom who called a local locksmith in the area, we were able to get back into my apartment to finish the move. For a cool THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Add in all the boxes and packing materials I bought, and we can just round this cost up to $500 here I think.

Total Cost of Move: $3K

What I Learned

As you can see from this deep analysis of my psyche finances, moving is f*ckingggg expensive. And I’m only describing the moves that occurred across state lines! I also moved once while living in New York all on my own, without a car, or my parents to listen to me whine about it help me. Two months after moving to North Carolina, I moved into my own apartment in Greensboro, which effectively drained the rest of my savings. Will I move again, you ask? Only if I feel like sabotaging my own happiness in the near future. So, yes, probably.

That said, I have learned a few things about moving. For one, savings matter, especially if you’re moving on your own without any parental pity outside financial assistance. It was key to my second move. I also learned that just because you have enough money for rent doesn’t mean you actually have enough money to move—you might end up spending three times what your monthly rent costs. Also, don’t drink before your move. Just don’t do it.

Images: Giphy (4)

As a struggling artist/writer Betch in LA, I cannot believe how much I spend to live here. We recently covered the expenses of living in NY—a true account after Refinery29’s batshit crazy Money Diaries, otherwise titled Daddy Pays My Bills and It’s So Hard. So let’s dive into what it costs to live in the other most expensive city in America, Los Angeles. Or like, that may technically be San Fran. Whatever, still talking about LA.

The Basics

Occupation: Artist (drawing/painting), Animator (what I went to school for), Writer (obvi, that’s how you’re reading this shit), Magician (a recent endeavor that sounds like a joke but isn’t. Let’s not discuss it further).

Basically, all my jobs are freelance and sound made-up (particularly magician). But I really, really love when my dad’s douchebag, pretentious friends say things to me like, “Okay, so what’s your backup career if artist/writer doesn’t work out?” I tell them not to worry: I’m a magician now.

Hilarious.

Because I’m a fucking hustler, my income goes up and down depending on how much work I get. The cool thing about freelancing is that you can take on as much work as you want. The shit thing is sometimes there is no work. This is what credit cards are for.

Industry: Illustration, Animation, whoever will pay me to write or draw, etc.
Age: 27
Location: North Hollywood, CA
Salary: ~ $50k
Paychecks: I’m paid per project so this amount goes up or down. I spend about $3,000 monthly. Like, that is how much it costs to keep me alive here.
Bonus: The fuck. I’m lucky if people actually pay me what we agree on per project.

Shit I Pay For

Rent: $1,200/month for my own bedroom in a two bedroom apartment in an “up-and-coming” neighborhood that I share with a roommate and a dog. “Up-and-coming” means there was a shooting that killed 3 people on the next street over from us, but we’re also getting a Whole Foods. The roommate pays less than me for the smaller room. The dog is a freeloader. I read recently that the ~smart~ person should only spend 1/3 of their income on rent. Like, what the fuck? If I made that much, the first thing I would do is move into a nicer apartment.
Utilities: $100-200 a month, for fun things like water, electricity, AC (a fucking necessity here unless you want to die in the summer), etc.
Car: I probably spend like $50 every week or two on gas. But tbh I usually work from home, so no one requires me to drive anywhere. Car service can be anywhere from $100-$600 a year (and God help you if you need new tires), which is why I just ignore it when the light comes on. #lifehack
Gym Membership: $40/month for a small private gym that I occasionally see celebrities at, like wannabe thirst trap Ariel Winter and Kylie Jenner’s lips (unclear if she had a face under them).
Going Out/Eating Out/Stupid Shit: If my credit card bill exceeds $1,000, I cry. Does that clear it up?
Savings: lol

A Standard Work Day (Particularly, Today)

8am: Wake up. Cry because I hate mornings. I am literally an actual vampire person. I hate the sun and I’m nocturnal. Also, the whole drinking blood thing. That aside, since I work from home usually, I roll out of bed, get coffee, feed my dog (who doesn’t get up to eat) and begin working looking like Nosferatu.

9am: Continue working. I’m illustrating a children’s book today. It’s about a kitty. Cry at the thought of my $200k film degree because I was going to change the world with my movies. My dog is snoring like a monster truck. Cute.
9:15am: On this page, the kitty says “meow, meow.” Debate ending it all now.
11am: I’m meeting my friend who also works from home at a neighborhood coffee shop, so I force myself to get dressed (kinda) and put on makeup (ish). I get in an *actual* fight with my dog, who is still deadass asleep because she doesn’t want to get up to use the bathroom. Like, I’m mad because she’s making me late, but also: fair. Lift her 60lb ass out of bed and drag her outside and back.
11:30am: Go to coffee shop. Spend $14 on a nonfat chai latte barely bigger than a shot glass and a breakfast wrap. I tell myself I’m going to eat half the wrap and save the other half for later.
11:32am: Ate both halves. Fuck. I’m destined to be broke AND fat. Continue to illustrate kitties while bitching to my friend about how annoying our other friends are. My favorite way to work.
2pm: Go home, eat again. I told myself I was going to the gym at 3. Also, I hate the gym. I debate just being obese and not going. Why does it matter? I’m not dating. No one wants to fuck me regardless. I should just crawl back into bed with my dog (who is STILL FUCKING ASLEEP SOMEHOW) and give up. Think of the time I’ll save.
3pm: The problem is, everyone at the gym is gross and sweaty. So then I have to touch the gross, sweaty things that they touched.
3:20pm: Late for the gym, but I somehow still go. Unsurprisingly, the gross and sweaty people are there. As is some chick from some show that I don’t know the name of. She is soooo thin that she looks like an 8-year-old boy with blowup doll lips. It’s a really good thing I’m not one of the many people trying to become some sort of actor or model in this city. I eat carbs, for one.

5pm: Come home but can’t open my door because there are too many Amazon Prime boxes blocking it. What the fuck did I order? I don’t even remember.
5:32pm: A new watercolor set (that can technically be for work), a sexy cocktail dress (from Amazon? Really? I don’t remember this purchase AND I don’t even go anywhere to wear this), cheap sunglasses that look identical to ones I already own, an Easter-themed bandanna for my dog with a bunny on it (necessary), and a pack of 100 candle wicks (at some point I thought I’d make my own candles). Total amount spent: $76.16. But I technically bought this shit two days ago so it really doesn’t count as today’s cost. Leave the boxes stacked on my kitchen table next to the other empty boxes I’ve been meaning to take out for three weeks.
5:33pm: Eat a Quest bar for post-workout protein. It is Birthday Cake flavor which is way better than the other Quest bars that all have this weird “Quest bar” taste, no matter the flavor. However, it does not taste like birthday cake. Strongly consider being obese again. Also, why do they all have that same flavor? It’s like my college cafeteria. You could get a salad or a grilled cheese or a steak, and yet it all somehow tasted like the cafeteria. It’s fucking wrong.
5:34pm: Write articles for Betches. You are SO welcome. I haven’t even fucking showered yet, I’m just sitting in my sweaty (AND GROSS) workout clothes to get this shit done for you.
7pm: Feed my dog again. I really should cook something. Except I’ve already eaten everything I like and all I have left are frozen fish and chicken and turkey burgers and vegetables. I’d have to eat, like, super healthy. I decide to go grocery shopping tomorrow.
7:01pm: Oh sorry, by grocery shopping I meant, use Instacart to click on groceries and then have a struggling actor deliver them to my door for an additional $6 plus tip. Worth it.
7:02pm: Postmates my favorite pho place that I’ve been eating at twice a week because it’s so fucking good I don’t want anything else. Also? It’s less than a mile from my apartment. Also? Between delivery, service fee (wtf is a service fee if I’m already paying for delivery though, Postmates?), and tip, the order costs twice as much. The filet mignon pho is $10, and I also get crab rolls which are literally lettuce wrapped crab for $6. The order total is somehow $32. What the fuck. Still worth it.
8pm: Eating my pho, super happy now. I think I’m going to take a bath. Well actually, because I went to the gym, I’m going to rinse off in a shower, and THEN take a bath. It’s a huge waste of water but it’s necessary because otherwise I will be sitting in gym germs and I will die.
8:02pm: I’m trying to drink less often but really, I need a glass of wine for a bath, sooo….

8:03pm: Good thing there’s a liquor store next to my apartment. I spend $18 on rosé, but it’s the one with the pretty rose carved into the bottom of the bottle. It’s also the perfect shade of pink. So chic. Did you know a glass of rosé is only 86 calories? Like, a chardonnay is 120. This is basically diet wine.
8:10pm: Take a bath using no less than $50 worth of products from Lush. I smell amazing so it’s worth it. Also, I didn’t buy these today so it doesn’t count.
8:20pm: Drank entire bottle of rosé. 430 calories. Fuck.

Total Spending for One Weekday: $64. Not counting my Amazon or Lush purchases because those were not done today. So yeah.

Total Spending for One Week if I Got Coffee/Breakfast/Dinner Every Day Like This: $448. That is fucking depressing.

Also, this is not including weekends, where depending on where we go, I may be drinking nine $3 margaritas (and ordering the $7 queso and chips) or four $12 vodka-soda-limes. Or, God forbid, if I go out to dinner WITH drinking. Or brunch, where it’s $15 an entree, but only $15 more for bottomless mimosas which is seems like a good fucking deal. Because I drink like six of them. So I am saving money.

This day sucked in terms of spending, but I pay my rent and my dog sees a dermatologist, so I think we’re doing pretty damn fine over here. Kudos to the Betches making it work in cities that clearly don’t want us. In other news, my credit card bill is due in two days and tbh, after writing this out I don’t even want to look at it.