A leap, a fractured ankle, and a whole new perspective. One university exchange to rule them all.

"When I was in my final year of University, I signed up for an exchange. I mostly applied to feel like I’d done something other than get drunk on homemade wine and call-in orders of family-sized poutine. Having never left the continent, I put my preferred destinations as either Ireland or England—clearly, placing little emphasis on cuisine (or dental).

Like most volunteer opportunities, I was in it for the boost of talking about doing something. I lacked the foresight to grasp that moving somewhere was a likely requirement. I also had yet to learn that time is not an almighty buffer.

A few weeks later, I got the email that I’d been accepted into the exchange program. I also received my placement country. Would it be boiled potatoes or crisps? Guinness or Newcastle? Red-haireds or other pale people?

As I opened the attachment, my hands turned clammy.

It looked like I’d be spending my winter semester in….*drum roll, please*…

Denmark!?

Where the fuck is Denmark?"

To read in full, check out: https://www.backtoshameless.com/

"It looked like shit, but I knew I had to stand by it."

When we moved into our first house, I threw out our frat boy futon. The time had come to invest in an “I’m a mortgaged adult” sofa. Skipping over Ikea’s middle ground, I set my sights on a down-filled velvet sectional with a price to match.

For weeks, I loitered on Article’s website with Royal Velvet propped in my shopping cart.

However, even after red wine and indulgent Real Housewive’s marathons, I’d get close but then panic and abandon. As a Dollarami-Mami (in recovery), without a promo code or flash sale, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

As luck would have it, after some deep web sleuthing, I found Lady Velvet on Facebook Marketplace. The couch was in good condition, nearby, and most importantly, less than half off.

And hey, a little stranger dander never hurt anybody.

To read in full, head to: https://www.backtoshameless.com/

Generosity comes in all shapes and sizes (but none are found in the discount bin).

As someone in recovery, I can sniff out a fellow cheap person from a mile away. I get a shiver when I watch a stranger perform their best “purse dig looking for a credit card” at bill time.

While I’ve learned to override being cheap, I still have my eye on the prize. A restaurant menu with a $2 cost-savings gap? I’ll find the combination. A utility turkey with a wing missing for Thanksgiving dinner? Who needs two? A discount bin at checkout filled with expired formula and stale nuts? Ima be sifting.

To read in full, head to: https://www.backtoshameless.com/