Dinner with the girls.
Tap.
Next round on me?
Tap.
Some new clothes?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Do I have the funds to do that? No… Very much no, I do not, and I have to work to provide for myself, so finding a balance has been a big struggle as a college student.
Budgeting while being in college has been one of the most difficult things I have had to learn, and that is coming from someone studying mechanical engineering. Especially in a community where so much money flows freely, and most people can afford to say yes to everything, it is hard to be the friend who has to say no.
Coming to CU was entirely my choice, and I have to remind myself of that when my friends want to do something I can’t really afford. My family helps as much as they can, but tuition, rent, and living expenses are real, and they add up faster than my DoorDash orders.
Enter: Girl math.
For the unfamiliar, girl math is the slightly unhinged logic we use to justify our spending. Returning something to a store? That’s free money. Buying something on sale? You actually saved money. Splitting a $90 dinner five ways? Practically free. It’s creative accounting at its finest, and honestly? Sometimes it’s the only thing getting us through the semester.
Here’s my personal girl math hall of fame:
“I walked to class today instead of taking the driving, so I basically earned this iced coffee.”
“This top was $35, but I’ll wear it at least 7 times, so it’s really only $5 per wear. Basically a steal.”
“I didn’t buy lunch yesterday, so tonight’s dinner out is already covered.”
Funny? Yes. Financially sound? Absolutely not. But deeply, deeply human.
The harder truth.
Here’s what nobody really talks about: it stings a little to be the one doing actual math while everyone else is doing girl math. When your friends are splitting a large dinner, and it feels totally normal to them, and you’re quietly calculating whether you can cover rent if you say yes to going, that’s a specific kind of loneliness.
I’ve sat at tables laughing along while internally panic-checking my bank account. I’ve said “I’m not really hungry” when the truth was I couldn’t justify the price. And I’ve said yes when I should have said no, just to avoid feeling like the odd one out.
The moment that really put it into perspective for me? Spring break. While most of my friends packed their bags for trips and warm weather, I stayed in Boulder. I’m working. I’m studying. I’m making the most of an empty campus and a quiet house, and honestly, some days that feels completely fine, and other days it’s a little harder to sit with and feels a little lonely.
It’s not that I resent anyone for going. I don’t. But there’s something about watching everyone’s travel photos roll in while you’re on a shift or cracking open a textbook that reminds you, very clearly, that not everyone is working with the same hand.
And then there are the friends who cover for me, who pick up my tab or grab my drinks because in their words, “it’s not a big deal.” And I love them so much for it. But loving them for it and feeling completely at ease with it are two different things. There’s a specific guilt that comes with generosity you can’t immediately return. I’m grateful, truly, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also feel like I’m running a tab I can’t pay back. It’s a strange emotional math to do alongside the financial kind.
Learning to say no (without making it weird).
This is still something I’m figuring out, but here’s what’s actually helped:
Have a go-to line. You don’t owe anyone a full financial breakdown. A simple “I’m trying to be good with money this month” or “I’m skipping this one, but let’s plan something soon” is enough. Most good friends won’t push.
Suggest alternatives. Instead of skipping plans entirely, propose something more budget-friendly, a movie night in, a walk, or cooking together. You still get the time with your people without the financial hangover.
Plan ahead so things cost less. Booking things in advance, looking for student discounts, and suggesting activities early means you have more control over what you’re committing to, and way less pressure in the moment.
Meal prep like it’s your part-time job. Grocery shopping with a list and cooking at home has saved me more money than I can calculate. It’s not glamorous, but a big batch of pasta on Sunday hits different when it’s feeding you through Thursday.
Track every single expense. I mean everything — the $3 parking, the vending machine snack, the “small” online order. Once you see where your money actually goes, it changes how you spend it. It can be uncomfortable at first, but knowing your numbers is power.
Find your free. CU has more free and low-cost events than most people realize. Being on a budget doesn’t mean missing out. It means getting creative about where you show up.
Name your number. Know your actual monthly fun budget and treat it like it’s gone once it’s spent. It sounds rigid, but having a real number makes every decision so much easier. No guilt, no guessing.
The bottom line.
Girl math is funny because it’s relatable, we all do it, we all know it’s a little ridiculous, and we love it anyway. But underneath the jokes is something real: navigating money in college, especially when you’re surrounded by people in different financial situations, is genuinely hard.
Staying in for spring break while the world seemingly goes on vacation isn’t a failure. Saying no to the occasional dinner isn’t antisocial. Cooking at home instead of going out isn’t sad. These are all just choices made by someone who’s building something, even when that something is just making rent next month.
And the friends who look at me and say, “I don’t know how you do it”? I think about that more than they realize. Not in an arrogant way, but because it reminds me that what I’m doing isn’t invisible. The hard work, the sacrifice, the quiet discipline of a spring break spent working, it’s being seen. And that matters.
Saying no doesn’t make you boring or difficult. It makes you someone with a plan.
And honestly? That’s a little badass.