Girl dinner, girl math and other excuses I fully support
By Ivy Kleinman
Edited by Anna Kate Mereness
Every time I walk into Plato's Closet, the same math happens automatically, before I've even hit the register. I count what's in my hands, divide the total by the number of items and land on a "cost per item" number I can compare to what each thing would've cost retail. Four items for $22 becomes $5.50 an item, and suddenly I'm not spending money, I'm saving it — never mind that I walked in "not needing more clothes" and walked out with a new sweater.
That's girl math. I've never once done this kind of division for anything that actually matters, like rent or gas. Just secondhand sweatshirts.
Then there are the nights I eat an entire box of Kraft spiral mac and cheese, just salt, pepper and hot sauce, standing in the kitchen because it seems more fun to eat leaning against the counter than in a chair at the table. That's girl dinner, and I will defend it. It's not a "real" meal by any definition of protein or true nutrients, but it's exactly what I want at exactly the moment I want it, and I don't feel the need to apologize for it to anyone — least of all myself.
My best friend is the one I say both of these things to, usually as we're both laughing about it. She's the one who hears "it's basically free" and doesn't argue, who's seen me eat that mac and cheese and never tells me to find some way to add protein. There's something specific about having one person who just gets it without you having to explain the logic — she doesn't need the math to check out, she just nods and lets me have it.
And I think that's actually the function these phrases serve. It's less about the math genuinely adding up and more about giving myself, her and anyone else who says it permission to not explain. Retail therapy has always needed a justification. So has eating something that isn't a "balanced meal." "Girl math" and "girl dinner" let us skip that part. We don't have to defend why we bought the sweater or why dinner was a box of pasta and hot sauce; we just say the phrase, laugh and move on. It's shorthand for "I know this doesn't hold up under scrutiny, and I don't care."
I don't think the math at Plato's Closet is ever going to add up the way I pretend it does. I'm going to keep doing it anyway, out loud, to my roommate, every single time.
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